f»oems 

From Life ^ 



GUY E. POLLEY 

Brotherhood of Carpenters. 
No. 948 



PRICE, $1.00 



SIOUX CITY. IOWA: 

V.'. H. Butitn Priniinir Company 

1917 




Class TTJo^^J 



.CM. 



Book 

CbpyrightN" 



'!:> 



r> 



/ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



p^^^ 



<• 



!S> 




GUY E. POLLEY. 



JAN -3 1918 



To my old Mother, who has always been to me 
the best friend as well as a true mother, whose 
council was always to do the right, though perhaps 
not always heeded. 

And to my wife, Ruth, for her friendly criti- 
cism, and many suggestions, I dedicate this book 
of poems by a Carpenter. 

I have written them of evenings at home, after 
the day's work at my trade, and have been seri- 
ously handicapped by my lack of an education, as 
I never attended school after reaching the fourth 
grade. 

Some of the contents of this book may sound 
rough, but as the title indicates, they were written 
from every day incidents of life, and I have found 
it to be a rough old world, according to my obser- 
vations and experiences. 

I have endeavored to boost for the "under 
dog," because in my fight with the world for exist- 
ence, I have been most of the time an under dog, 
and naturally my sympathies go out to the man 
who toils for his daily bread. 

If anything I have written causes a smile, or 
shoes any "under dog" to a better understanding 
of himself or his fellow man, then I shall feel as 
if the world had been just a little better because 
I have been in it. 

GUY E. POLLEY, 



Dec. 1st, 1917. 



Iowa. 



(Copyright, 1917, by Guy E. PoUey). 



liLeast Eegigtance 



The path of least resistance is the one where most folks go 

"It's so much easier" they say. "amd what's the use to make a show 

By hard and unremitting toil, to do the right and not the wrong. 

When wrong is easier to do. and why not join the largest throng?" 

One slips along with easy stride, along the least resistance way. 

And caring not what may betide — well pleased with just the present day; 

But there's a reckoning bound to come, to every mem. of debt and bill; 

'Tis better if he labored some, smd went not down, but up the hill. 



^ 



'Tis easy to slip down the hill, but when you've reached the vale below 

And crossed it to the other side, you find another hill to go. 

And this one you must need to climb, when strength with half your life is gone. 

Or. if you're satisfied below, sit still while others travel on. 

These hills are but the hills of life, and all across their rugged face 

Are many paths that criss and cross — some lead to honor, some disgrace. 

Those to disgrace are easy tread, but lead to misery and crime. 

But if the honors you would have, you'll find that you have got to climb. 



^ 



The trip down hill is but a day. but getting back is all your years; 

You'll find the penalty to pay is in remorse, in sighs emd tears. 

You'll find that friends are scarce to help you back to honors you have lost, 

And more are prone to push you down, or else one side you're roughly tossed. 

Life's burdens are divided up. to start, and each must pay his toll; 

But some are carrying for two. ere they have reached the end. and goal. 

So at the parting of life ways, where one leads up. the other down, 

'Tis harder traveling going up. but leads to honors emd renown. 



)CI,A4813'J^ 



"Valentine Bap 



You can hear men talk of your Christmas time — of the frolic an' fun roun' 

a tree; 
They talk of the joy bells' happy chime, an' the banquet boards, and gifts 

so free; 
But let me go on my front porch, just when the postman comes along. 
And get a bunch of Valentines — it makes a feller feel like song. 
It perks a feller up a bit to think his friends along the line 
Remembered some kind act he'd done, enough to send a Valentine. 



^ 



Now, maybe one will show a gink with long thin neck an' mouth a-grin. 
With stubble whiskers on his face, an fiddle tucked beneath his chin. 
An' po'try 'bout the squalls I make that persecute the human race. 
Don't make me sore a little bit — I know 'taint meant fer no disgrace. 
I read an' grin from ear to ear an' speculate, £in' try to guess 
Who mailed the gol dumed thing to me, an' read again the dogerel mess. 



^ 



I'll maybe get one from the box. a flowered, primped, lace-paper thing. 
Addressed to Ma. I just look wise, an' hand it to her, an' by jing. 
She'll look it o'er an' read the verse, then look at me an' sorter smile. 
An' gets a kind of well pleased look — she knows I sent it all the while. 
An' son gets one from his best girl, an' daughter gets one from her "shine" 
An' brighter seems the whole dum worl', because of ol' St. Valentine. 
An' brighter seems the whole dum worl'. because of ol' St. Valentine. 



^0 ^nofcu a-n^all 



IvK heard folks ra\-e o'er the w-inter tiine when the streams were a glare of ice. 
And talk of the skate steel's rj-thm and rh>-me. of miles wait in a thrice. 
But the cold. Ueak winds doot appeal to me — I would sit by a good hot stove 
^ ith a child or two potibed on my knee, and a story' of treasure tro%*e. 
The best old xiiae in the year's old string ain't summer, winter or fall. 
But when I hear the first robin sing, and there ain't no snow a-talL 



^"hen the robin makes his first wee cheep, then 1 know the spring is here. 

And 1 see the tree-scars sap and weep: of the coal man I've no fear. 

When the creek banks fill to their le\-el brim, and the snow melts all the day. 

I fed like singing a praise to Him who drives my troubles away. 

.■\nd 1 sit on the steps in the springtime sun. and yawn, and stretch, and loll" 

And vt-atch the robins hop and run, and there ain't no snow a-talL 



^ 



I like to get out and dig in the spring, when parsnips are all thawed out. 

And rake the >-aTd of any old thing that's littered around about. 

And spade or plow the ground up fine and fix it for garden seeds. 

And look at the neighbors down the line, and see mine in the one that leads. 

So of all the seasons that make the string — winter, spring, summer and fall. 

The time's when 1 bear the first robin sing, and there ain't no snow a-tal|. 



Cell tfjE iilan 



I've seal a man accused of wroo^ vrKo never had dcoe auglit but right, 
\l"ho vainly sought those who accused, but who kept strictly out of sight. 
VCbo lacked the qualities of man to first speak to the one accoacd 
And give the chance to speak a word in his defense of rule abused. 
One chance, tis said, is not siougfa in this old world that -we are in; 
Take that away, 'tis rather rough upoa the one who tries to win 
His honest way for wife and child and make his home a happy pl a cf . 
So do not let yourself get wild and wrongfully accuse - 



^ 



TTie wrong thing said will sometimes cansp a l»ttemess down in the heart 

That rankles there and cause the one wixna you have wroDged to then deptart 

From principles that were for good, and hooest living as a man. 

Because he ^^liT)lc» it is no use to try to do the best he can. 

Speak first to him you think is wrong instead of to the ones up higher; 

Perhaps you'U find he can explain, emd save your being thought a Uar. 

It is no feather in your hat to try to rise at his downfall. 

And even if you did, at that you'd find your thoughts wormwood and galL 



Wrong never yet has madp a right, but right has straightened many a wrcmg 
And brought a glad smile to a face, and caused the Ups to jiart in song, 
UTiere bitterness would reign supreme if troubles you have brought to him 
And ^»TongfuIly accused — perhaps he'd fed like breaking face and limb. 
'Tis hard enough to get along through this old world when at its best. 
And those who brush the stcxies away frtxn soioe ooe's path are surely blessed 
By him who profits by the act. and smiles a welcxxne when tliey meet. 
Instead of siloit, angry gaze if they should meet upon the street. 



Mtjcn jFricnteijip Jlrcafeg 



When friendship breaks that stood the test of years. 
They look upon with awe the future's fears. 
And every day they miss the kindly word — 
The warm hand clasp — good morning, they have heard. 
Each wonders why, eind where, the wrong was done. 
Who spoke the word that stopped the song as sung? 
What use the pain within the heart that aches — 
WHEN FRIENDSHIP BREAKS. 



^ 



Where went the years that made life but a space. 
Where sunshine twixt them glowed when face to face? 
When friendship turned to love they never knew. 
But settled o'er their hearts like falling dew. 
Then came the wrong that split their love in twain. 
And wounded hearts that may not heal again, 
Till comes the time when sudden stops the heart 
Of friends who part. 



mw ^ ^asi a Wov 



'When I was a boy," I say to mine, then memory trails away and back, 
And shadow forms with hook emd line come 'long with me down the mill pond 

track. 
We dig the worms in the rich grass mold, and dig crawfish form out the bog. 
And then we fished (I can hear ma scold because I sat on a muddy log). 

'Did you go when grandma told you not." my eldest asked with mischief eye. 

And when I told him "I'd forgot.' he smiled and said, "he wondered why." 



^ 



I remember how I tore my clothes, a'trying to beat in the swimming hole; 
Ran into the fence and split my nose — choke-cherry tree the only goal; 
Stepped on a bottle broke in two, that hid itself in a patch of weeds. 
And cut my foot 'most through and through (I cem see it yet how it spurts £ind 

bleeds). 
But when my boy fell and broke his arm, and I paid the doctor the setting bill, 
I forgot the days on the old home farm, in the old log house near Correction- 

ville. 



The old brick school, just across the way, I can see a boy climb o'er the fence 
And join the bunch in pul-a-way, with a-running and yelling most intense. 
The skating on and the breaking in of the pond at the foot of schoolhouse 

hill. 
And the weiils and cries — an awful din' — when Chapin whipped us fit to kill. 
But if my boy gets his feet all wet, and is sick, I'm liable to destroy 
The memory to him when a man, you bet, of the good times when he was a boy. 



Let's try to remember that we were boys, amd be chums to our boys today. 
Let's be their chums — share their griefs and joys — sometimes join in their 

play- 
When they've grown up men to mcm's estate — take their place in the world's 

great plan — 
Let them have the pleasure and not the hate of the times when dad began 
To figure along in their memories, and share their griefs and joys. 
Let's make some effort to try to please, and be friends with our girls and boys. 



it it (!^ut 



I've seen folks so cross an' crusty that they'd lay awake of nights, 

An' their grouchy 'magination had 'em even havin' fights. 

If you'd ask 'em what the other feller'd done, they couldn't say. 

But they'd go a roun' a-grouchin' everybody all next day. 

Now, most times, the doctor tells us, it's their liver's out of whack. 

They're too darn all fired cussed to take dope to git it back. 

An' they'll 'base their little fambly, set aroun' the house an" pout — 

If they's torper in their liver, gee, they'd orter git it out. 



^ 



Hides all yaller like a punkin, eyes as glassy as a snake's. 
Nerves all tremblin' an' shaky, alius got a stummick ake; 
Head akes, too, an' feels about as big as any sugar bar'l. 
All they want to do fer 'joyment is to stan' around an' quarrel. 
They're the ones that takes the joy all out of livin' in this world. 
An' every time you meet 'em, why, their temper's cross an' gnurled. 
All they do is cuss an' grumble, spread hard feelin's all about. 
It's the torper in their livers, an' they'd orter git it out. 



Morrp 



I've seen a man upon the street with eyes cast always down; 
You must give the way when him you meet, his face a gloomy froi 
Is turned to you when close to you he comes along his way, 
But does not see or know you're there until he hears you say, 
"What thinking of, old man?" emd then he'll almost take a drop 
And tell you that he's worried and couldn't seem to stop. 



^ 



You tell him not to worry, that things will shape around; 
That worrying don't help a bit — just simply gets him down." 
Just bring on maybe sickness emd wreck his health and life; 
But he just keeps a-worrying 'bout money or his wife. 
He's maybe only foreign born — just a low down Russian "wop,' 
But don't tell him not to worry, but tell him how to stop. 



^ 



His family's sick, and living's high, and bills are coming due. 
And perhaps his tight-fist landlord has spoke a word or two; 
Perhaps his best girl has gone wrong, eind fell beside the way. 
Don't blame him if he's shy on song, and mopes around all day. 
But try to give a helping hand — just kind of be a prop 
By not saying, "Oh, don't worry," but tell him how to stop. 



iiotiier's! ^k 




"Way back in past old ages, close to God's first day of earth 
It tells in history's pages that the things he made were worth 
An awful lot to human's that he'd put here on the land — 
Things he'd made fer em to live on — put em handy to their hand. 
There was jest a pile of vine things, sich as mellons an the squash, 
An the cantelopes and 'cumbers' and the pumpin too, by gosh. 
The best he ever give us (it most makes me heave a sigh) 
When I think of that good eatin in Ma's big fat pumpkin pie. 



^ 



When the top was that brown-yeller from the bakin on the top 

I could jest keep on a eatin till I'd bust 'fi didn't stop; 

And the nice brown crust below it richer'n any paint or stain 

Made me ask fer jest another piece when pie come 'round agin. 

I'll fergit about my lickins that I got fer bein a pig. 

An dad would give me trimmin 'till I'd fairly dance a jig; 

But I'll never, never, never, fergit until I die 

The delicious, dandy goodness, of my Mother's pumpkin pie. 



Eije Pest 3 Can 



I'll do just the very best I can, and I'll always be willing to try. 

And I'll carry the load, along life's road, to the end of the bye and bye: 

I'll solve all life's problems the best I know how, be honest thru woe or weal. 

And in the end I'll be, from regrets all free, for giving an honest deal; 

I'll try to push forward emd stand not back — be a leader in the van 

Of the streams of men that live their Uves, by doing the best I can. 



I'll do just the very best I cem, by my fellows along the way. 

And even help out the lazy lout, to a better and brighter day; 

I'll not set my standard all to high, just work towards a good ideal. 

And make my way, to each future day, with a purpose true as steel; 

I'll try to live up to the golden rule I'll mix with the laboring clan. 

Then I'll have the comforting thought in the end, that I've done the best I can. 



^ 



I'll do just the very best I can by the one who journeys with me, 
I'll try to do right, till death's dark night, leads into eternity; 
When the summons comes where'er I be, 1 can answer "here am I," 
And life's wage is paid, for I've always made an effort to always try; 
And it's worth a lot to be able to say, "I've done no wrong to man," 
But lived my life in an honest way, emd done the best I can. 



i;tDO=Jf aceb jFolfeS 



They haven't got two heads, as from the name you would suppose 
Nor have they brains enough to fill one up, we know, and goodness knows 
What wit they've got is all employed to seem what they can never be — 
To be a friend when you may meet and knock you at your back, you see. 
That is, I mesin, to make it good — this two-faced deal, so you'd not know 
That friendship did not prompt the smile, but malice coming from the low. 



^ 



I've had them say, "Why, hello Bill," and "How's the folks at home, by jing?" 
And stemd and shake my hand until it ached or couldn't feel a thing. 
Then start to knock some other man to me while walking down the street. 
And maybe grip him same as me, if happened him they chanced to meet. 
You'll find that kind most every day you travel 'long the walk of life. 
And they're the ones that causes all the trouble, grief and strife. 



^ 



I like to know just by his look how any man may feel toward me. 

The smile that's all "ferninst" his teeth belies the shake so hard and free. 

And after he has shook with me and passed along his little knock 

I feel like smashing bones and feel like slugging that smile with a rock. 

But what's the use of getting riled — just treat them as a bunch of jokes. 

And pEiss the "buck" along until it comes to these same two-faced folks. 



Winion ^bijocate 



Some folks read about adventure in a book all nicely bound; 

Others dig "way back in hist'ry 'bout where gold was first off found, 

'Bout the times of Julius Caesar and the good old Roman days. 

When men fought and bled together in a pit in bloody frays. 

But I like to take my paper and sit down and read the news. 

And see what is done in Washington — (o'er Wilson I enthuse). 

But the thing that takes my fancy — makes me sometimes sit up late ■ 

Is to read my labor paper — good old "Union Advocate." 



^ 



I like to see the writings that the boys are "spiehling "out; 
Like to see the gink hauled o'er the coals and slammed around about; 
Like to see the right position that our Lytle man has took. 
And the spicy things that's written by our Brother Charley Cook. 
Advertisements there are many where to buy your label clothes. 
Where to buy a label coffin when you're laid in death's repose. 
Anything that you find in it is good news around the state. 
Union news? You'll always find it in The Union Advocate. 



^ 



Every workingman should read it if he has a card or not. 

If it wasn't for the union's fighting for him he'd be shot. 

For the predatory interests want to down the union man. 

And the cardless man 'long with him every time they think they can. 

Union labor boosts the wages eind it holds them close to par 

With the cost of this high livin' that was brought on "by the war" (?) 

And you'll find if you'll just read it thru and thru, as sure eis fate 

It will make you dimes and dollars if you'll read your Advocate. 



®nv Jfeast 



My wife an' I was talkin' "bout what we "ud east Thanksgiving day. 
An' what we'd have to do without, for lack of coin with which to pay. 
She took some paper an' set down the things we tho't we could afford 
To have upon that natal day, adornin' of our festal board. 
Well, she said "bread," an' I said "corn," and wheat bread we could use 

cake. 
An' oleo with color in, so no one'd know it was a fake. 
(On 'count of prohibition times we'd have to do without the "suds"). 
But in the center of the spread we'd place eight dandy, luscious spuds. 



^ 



With wheat flour 2-8-5 a sack, an' spuds at sixty cents a peck, 

Fer cost our spread'U loom up great as any on the hill, by heck. 

An' we'll be theinkful, too, because we're 'lowed to stay on top the earth 

An' live accordin' to the laws, and eat our little dollar's worth. 

An' then I'll buy a sack of coal, an' build a fire in the stove. 

An' then we'll gather all aroun" — the whole durn eight all in a drove. 

An' then we'll thank the middle man in all them little "prayers" we'll say 

Fer sellin' us that sumptuous feast 'at we et up Thanksgiving day. 



Pill l^tvkim 



Bill Perkins was a feller 'at I knew long years ago; 
Jest a sorter easy goin" cuss, 'at took life so and so. 
Didn't need a bit to worry how to git a bite to eat. 
But weis never still a minnit when ye seen 'im on the street. 
Bill 'u'd cuss about high livin' when 'is bacon's twelve a poun. 
An' fer ten an' twelve a feller got the slices from the roun'. 
Spuds wuz twenty cents a bushel — raisin' chickens didn't pay. 
Ait poun' rooster fer a quarter ye could git mos' £iny day. 



^ 



Hubbard squash down In the cellar cost a nickel each, an' then 
Eggs as nice an' fresh fer seven cents as ever laid by hen. 
Hour cost a dollar aity fer a hundred poun' in weight. 
An" pork ye got by half-hog fer maby six er ait. 
But if Bill 'u'd come back now an' see the prices 'at we pay. 
He'd faint down on the sidewalk more'n dozen times a day. 
Fer war prices over 'n 'Urope makes yer head go roun' an' roun' 
An' ye cain't afford to die. fer livin's cheaper, I'll be boun'. 



^ 



Down the street there comes a lady dressed in caliker so rare. 

With a little ol' ten dollar hat a-settin' on 'er hair. 

An' a pair o' high top paper shoes 'at cost ten bucks a pair. 

The wife of some poor worker, 'ats a-campin' out somewhere. 

Bill Perkins got a dollar fer 'is day's work, an' I know 

He had to scrimp an' ligger all the time to make a go. 

But he didn't figger harder on 'is little bit of pay 

Thcin we do on these big wages of four an' five a day. 



Mfjen Babbp'g (got tlje #rtp 



When Daddy's got the gripfw, by heck, things ain't just scrumptious 'roun. 

our house. 
An' dad he has to set an' sip hot ginger, while we're still's a mouse 
To keep from hurtin's of 'is head that snaps an' cracks like bustin' through, 
An' makes 'im wish 'at he was dead, an' nothin's mean enough to do. 
His legs is achin', too; he wails an' has Ma fussin' all the time 
A-puttin' water hot in pails, an' looks like livin' was a crime, 
An' fur's us kid's concerned 'ith him, he don't think nothin' else but "whip." 
We're all jest faded out an' dim — when Daddy's got the grippe. 



^ 



His pulse is low' is fever's high, an' resp' ration short an' quick, 

An' sais he "thinks he 'bout to die" — his throat is sore, 'is tongue is thick. 

Then one 'v us kids upsets a chair, 'at goes slam bang down on the floor, 

An' he'll tear out a bunch o' hair, an' jest let out a' awful roar. 

Then Ma gits sore an' tells 'im not "to make 'imself a plumb ol' fool." 

An' he'll snort out a lot o' an' tear all run, an' slobbers drool. 

Then Dad'U set an' glare at her, an' say "he don't want any lip," 

An' Ma'll mumble "darned ol' cur" an' leave 'im rasselin' with the grippe. 



It seems the joy's gone from 'is life — no friends left in the whole durn worl' 

He's lost the one best friend, 'is wife, an' got 'is temper in a whirl. 

Us kids don't help the thing a bit, by keepin' up an awful noise. 

But shucks! we never think of it, fer we're jest nothin' but some boys. 

Some day Dad's comin' back to earth from that place 'at he sais is h . 

He's cussin' from the quinine now, an' sais his head rings like a bell. 
The water's runnin' from 'is eyes, he's sneezin' his ol' head a-rip. 
An' sais he hops he ups an' dies, to git away from that darn grippe. 



Plwcg 



When things look an' ye feel right glum, an' all the worl' seems upside down, 
Things don't seem right when yer to hum, an' everyone has got a frown. 
An' fren's keep alus 'cross the street, an' seem to 'void ye all they can; 
Life jest don't seem so gol durned sweet, an' you're the worl's most lonesome 

man. 
There's jist two things 'at is the rip — 'twon't make no difference which ye 

choose; 
You've either got the pesky grippe, er else you've got the dirty blues. 



No sartin thing must be the cause, of them low feelin's 'at ye got, 
Yer jest a livin' nature's laws, an' cussin' at ye don't know what; 
Yer jest so sore plum' thru an' thru, an' almos' hate the human race; 
Yer "juicy's" maybe down on you, an' mad-lines shows it in yer face. 
Then whether its grippe er what it is, ye feel like gittin' full o' booze. 
An" handin' that darn feller his, 'at caused yer trouble ein' yer blues. 



^ 



Don't make no difference how ye be, don't take a pill an' do the "dutch," 
Fer once you've crossed the golden lea, yer dead an it ain't helped ye much. 
Yer 'zactly like most any "goat" 'ats crossed the line that made it meat; 
'Tain't no good cause to swell an' gloat, because ye walk the golden Istreet, 
You've left the other "goat" behin', he's sure to win, you're sure to lose; 
He's got the whole game right in line, while you're in "dutch" from havin' 
blues. 



%o\it anb tt)c Catg 



Some people can talk in a wise-acre mode 

An' speak of the power of love. 
How it lightens man's labor along life's hard road. 

How it comes from the heavens above; 
But I've found in my travels along this same road 

That a man must just gird up 'is loins 
An' work - — before love will help lighten the load — 

He must have in 'is pocket some coins. 



I 've heard how this love stuff will chase off a grouch. 

An' drive all the dull care away. 
But you've got to have coin of the realm in your pouch 

To keep the bunch eating, I say. 
For when poverty ccmes creeping in at the door. 

Love jumps out the ^^Hndow an' Hies; 
An' it seldom comes back to that place any more. 

But remains in its place in the skies. 



^ 



Love thrives a lot best in a ten-dollar shoe 

An' wrapped up in a velvety gown. 
An' silk hose, an' maybe some lingerie, too. 

An' a picture hat perched on 'er crown . 
When you hear people talkin' of love in their home. 

You ciin bet they've got plenty to eat. 
Ellse love will be takin' a nice little roam 

An' you will be out in the street. 



QCfje QCramp 



I'm only a hobo, a vagabond — sloucli, a man on the road, no set place to go. 
I always have with me a chronicky grouch, for the world is agin me, the high 

ein' the low. 
Wben 1 come people mutter an' caU for the dog. an' set h i m upon me only 

for fun. 
Can you blame me for hiding behind some old log. to come back an' steal 

from the place where 1 run? 
I'm arrested, an' vagged, an' given long time, whether guilty or iimocent. 

all is the same. 
Whether north or the south, in any old clime, it's alwa>-s the tramp that is 

given the blame. 



place for 



s no place 



I'm a thief, or I'll starve; I'm a crook an' a knave: there 

in the pew of a church. 
Sure I'm dirty an' ragged an' need badly a shave, an' my hope is the Mission 

like that run by George Search. 
No one hires a tramp for fear he will rob, or perhaps he will murder them all 

in their bed. 
All the same. 1 'm as good as the bone-headed slob that's robbing the widows 

of husbands that's dead. 
Though I'm dirty of body, an' lousy of head, I'd rather be just what I am, 

yes by far; 
I'm worth more to the world in a weed patch an" dead than to be a great 

emperor running a war. 



I'm a chicken thief — robber of clothes from the line, but my hand never 

searches a working mein's clothes. 
To take for his hving his last only dime, for the price of his hving that hourly 

grows. 
Yet the world is against me, I'm only a tramp, an' its hemd's high in warning 

to those 1 may meet; 
But I've never robbed workman of even a stamp, though I'm cleaned from 

the town like a splotch on the street. 
While the wholesaling grocer sits in his den, like the spider is spinning his 

web as of old. 
To rob men for their hving is honored of men. while the world to the tramp 

is chilly an' cold. 



I'm only a tramp, an' a dirty one. too; a hobo, a pcirasite fast on the world. 
But I'd like to see murdering kings get their due, where grim war is raging 

an' flags are unfurled. 
I'm a rank nonproducer; I spin not or weave, an' I live by the sweat of another 

man's brow. 
But 1 never take all from your table, but leave enough for yourself, this you 

will allow. 
But the robber up high, in the great marts of trade, you honor him highly. 

but place the black steimp 
On the poor, lowly hobo, of thief, renegade, for 1 haven't the money — I'm 

only a tramp. 



Mo'WH^tvt QToton 



I've a friend who's gone on a little trip to a place called No-Where Town, 

And it's easy enough to go that way. for the roads run up and down. 

And circle, and waver all about, o'er hill and down thro' vales. 

And the ones who travel along that way are the ones that always fails. 

They've no destination fixed in mind, no particular place to go; 

They stagger along thro' life blind, and gyrate to and fro. 

The least small puff of adversity's wind will spin them round and round. 

And start them along the crooked way that leads to No-Where Town. 



So long as the meals come every day, and a place is found to sleep. 
They'll wander along the No-Where road — let old age softly creep. 
And the things they do don't make the world any better in which to live. 
They take all the good that comes that way and never a good thing give. 
So they drift along on the journey of life, with never an ounce of load; 
No thought have they for their fellow man that travels the Some-Where road, 
Elxcept to prey on his good will as they aimlessly wander around, 
And live to the rule of the parasite on the road to No-Where Town. 



^ 



No goal have they set to attain, except to live their life; 
And live it through in an effortless way — easy and free from strife. 
No wish at all for a wife or child to love and cherish and shield. 
But simply live their life and die, and go to the potter's field. 
The world is full of this selfsame ilk that's out on the No-Where road. 
And to keep them moving along that way they must punish beneath the goad. 
They're men of all colors — of every clime, of white, of black, and brown. 
And they go where there's ever a hill to climb, and they land in No-Where 
Town. 



Jfame 



Miss Fame in her travels, while passing along 

By the highway of life, stopped and scanned the great throng 

That passed on its journey along the great way. 

Seeking those for her favors at some future day. 

A blacksmith by chance she saw slowly plod by. 

And quickly she choose him (he never knew why); 

Gave him all honors and world-wide renown. 

And on his sooty brow she placed her own crown. 



^ 



Statemen eind preachers, e'en men from their plows, 

She touched with her finger — placed crowns on their brows; 

E'en the lowly backwoodsman she saw plodding there, 

And up by his side placed a great millionaire. 

But a dude in a hammock that swung in the shade 

She passed swiftly by, for no effort he made 

To make the world better as sleeping he lay 

In the shade by life's road, swinging idly away. 



And so on life's highway, while passing along. 
Let's make the world better, if only in song, 
With a little smile here and a pat. maybe, there; 
And the hardships we meet, let us each take our share. 
Fame comes not without effort to get in her way 
Where, perchance, she will see you and some future day 
Place her finger upon you, on life's rugged road. 
For helping some weaker one carry his load. 



So Sou ^top to Cf)infe? 




As ytw sit at eve in jrour home sweet home, where the fire glows red and bright. 

And the cold winds blow their burden of snow so swift through the chilly night. 

Do you taJce a thought of the ones outside in the icy blast and snow. 

UTio are not blessed with a place to rest — no home or a place to go? 

Do >-ou think of the man who in summer da>-s draws a wage scale rather smedl> 

Can >-ou see his way in winter's day. when he can't get work at all? 



His way leads back to a cheerless home, after each da>-s fruitless search 
For work to do for a dollar or two to keep him out of the lurch: 
.And the merchant has closed his credit down, and he hasn't a cent to pay 
And the babies cr>-. can you wonder why the laborers seldom pray? 
It's hard to say "God's will be done" when it's cold and the coal is gone 
It's hard to be brave when wee stomaches crave a meal at early dawn. 
But the minister said. "Thank God for life — that you've still a soul to save." 
Though you and your brood are famished for food, and aj^ near to a hungry 
gra\t 



In this day of the world if you ask for bread, you're likdy to get a stone. 
If you ask for meat, or a bite to eat. you'll perhajjs get a well gnawed bcxie; 
And if Christ should happen to come on earth and ask for a cup that cheers 
'Ere he'd time to think they's pass him a drink of one of the various beers — 
Few the world is a mob of grasping men. with no thanks for what you give. 
But take it and say. "Some time I'll pay," but forget that you ever live" 



Settle Platfe 



I've heard folks talk "bout other folks, an' knock on them an' moralize. 
An' tell of bad things thej- have done — you'd think them angfls from the 

skies : 
But ii you'd pull the closet door ^fnde open in their little home. 
You'd find a skeleton, by jing, plumb strong enough to stan' alone. 
They're always knockin' on some one. an' stringin' 'em behin' their back; 
They'd orter leam that ol' time adage. "Pot mustn't call the kettle black." 



^ 



If you've a grudge agin some folks that you would like well to appease. 

Look at yourself before you knock, perhaps you've got the same 

Your slur may prove a boomerang that will return to you am' smite. 

So just afore you knock, be sure that you yourself are in the right. 

Some day you might just be compelled to take all you have said right back. 

An' then you'll find the adage is true, "Pot shouldn't call the kettle black." 



U'e've all got troubles here below, sometimes it's hard to get along: 
Sometimes to hide ourselves we throw the "seJve" an' spread it good 

strong. 
But other folks can spread it, too, as thick as any you can spread. 
An' when you both have all got through, the pubhc is the one ahead. 
So if you'll take this ol' adage up an' live it. too. 1 think you'll find 
It's whole lot better, thru an' thru, to not caU kettle "bli 



5|olbin' ger fob 



It's tumble sleddin' thru this ole worl' where each one's holdin' of t'other one 

back: 
It's turrible sleddin' thru this ole worl' where each one's holdin' of t'other one 

back: 
'Taint like fun a-dancin' to bagpipes skirl, when you're fightin' to not hold 

the other gink's sack. 
You only jest want to hold onto yoor job. an' you do all the time jest the best 

that you can. 
But sometimes your employer's a boneheaded slob, an' is boun' to look on 

you as beast an' not man. 
Then eJl you can do is chaw on yer tongue, when he yells at you fitten to tear 

out a lung. 



^ 



Sometimes they yell loudest when snows' on the groun'. an' yer bumin' up 

dollars to keep out the cold. 
An' you tell 'im "Good momin'." he'll give you a frown. &n give you a combin' 

with eyes glarin' bold. 
But when robins are chirpin' an' trees are all green, an' gardens a-growin' an' 

everything's swell. 
He's the best of a frien' 'at ever you seen, fer you're where you can tell 'im 

to "Go straight to " 

Fer work is a'plenty — you ain't buyin' coal, an' you feel you've a right to 

claim your own soul. 



^ 



The day's gettin' longer, the sun's gettin' high, an' soon it'll shine on both 

sides of the fence. 
An' we'll be workin' roun' in shirt sleeves, bye an' bye. an' soak in heat from 

the sun most intense. 
An' the boss'U say. "Boys, go an' sit in the shade," jest Uke he does now to 

"Go sit by the stove." 
For the 'ol' summer time" the difference has made, an' filled his ol' heart 

with a bounteous love (?) 
So we'll all love our bosses the way they love us. an' their good will in summer 

don't matter a cuss. 



IM^m ^a bleeps ©aps 



My Pa's a watchman fer Ford Motor Co. : 

Gits up an' goes to work at 'leven P. M. 
He gits 'is breakfus' 'fore he has to go — 

He's got a steady job along o' them. 
But when Pa goes to bed 'bout ten er so. 

An' tries to sleep, us kids all try to keep 
Jes' still as mice, for Pa gits vexed up so 

If he's woked up 'fore he is done 'is sleep. 



Pa's razor strap is all frizzed at the end. 

An' so's our knee pants, too, aroun' the seat. 
An' we jes' hurt some awful when we bend 

Elr set down to the table when we eat. 
We git to quarrelin' over some fool thing: 

Git mad an' holler out, an' cry, an' weep: 
Then Ma gits nervous, an' you bet. by jing. 

We wisht we heuln't woke Pa from 'is sleep. 



^ 



Then Pa "11 ast Ma "where she was foolin' at.. 

An' Ma says "she's most ready fer to quit.' 
Then she am' him jes' has an' awful spat. 

An Pa tells her es' what he thinks of it. 

Then Pa'U hustle fer the razor strap. 

An' mtike it pop an' hurt jes' awful deep. 
Ten minutes after we don't give a rap. 

An' wake 'im up agin when he's asleep. 



^Dme=CoDfeeir #rub 



I sometimes go a ramblin across this good ole state. 

When I ketch a job a workin it has mostly been my fate 

Tofgit in with some tight-wad that thinks to cat's a sin, 

Anjwhen I git some hungry then trouble sure begin. 

Taint 'cos 1 live so mighty high when 1 am stayin hum, 

But jest the way of cookin thats handed out by some. 

An when the grub comes sorter raw — hashed up by some old dub, 

I kinda git a longin fer my home-cooked grub. 



^ 



Don't make no sorter difference when I set down in my chair 

Elf I'm in a fsmcy hotell, er just most smy where, 

Ef the wife an kids aint with me why 1 sorter sigh an moan 

An the cookin jest don't taste good when I try to eat etlone; 

I guess its jest a habit that mayby 1 have got 

Of likin my wifes cookin better'n all the bloomin lot. 

Its a sinch ye couldn't fool me by ringin in a sub 

Fer 1 jest cant relish nothin but the home-cooked grub. 



^ 



Now we don't have nothin fancy — spuds an beans an like a that. 

An a little cream fer coffee, swiped from milk bought fer the cat. 

An some ole margin butter jest to grease the bread a bit 

An a little jell 'long with it always makes a dandy hit; 

But if I go away from home an git the same old hash. 

Seems like my wife can cook it to beat 'em all to smash. 

An 1 kinda git a longin jest to take a little rub 

'Ginst a plate full of her cookin of our home-cooked grub. 



Jfrienb 



When you've got a friend that's helpful, one who smiles whene'er you meet, 

Whether you're alone or with them in a crowd upon the street. 

One who shakes your heind right hearty, wishing you the best of health, 

You should strive your best to hold them, for they're more to you than wealth; 

Such a friend, when you are down and out along life's stony road. 

Is the one who helps to reuse you — helps to carry on your load. 

Isn't always on the borrow, reaching for your coin with greed. 

But will soothe in time of sorrow, there you have a friend indeed. 



^ 



He will sit down by your bedside when the fever burns your brow. 

And he'll nurse you through the darkness, work next day no one knows how. 

Spend the last and only penny for a flower or fruit for you. 

Hold you hand when you are dying, give you more them is your due: 

If you have a friend like this one, don't speak harsh and risk to lose. 

But return his goodness ever, and no kind return refuse. 

Hold him tJways, ever near you, always treat him right and true. 

And I think you'll always find in him a friend in need to you. 



(2^'3:;oorg Wim 



Says Bryeui O'Toole to Mickey McShone, 

Oi hear that they're havin' some trouble at hoam, 

They're fightin' togither loik Flaherty's mules 

An ut all,is about thim British home rules. 

England wants min to go in 'er army, be cripes, 

All they're doin' is wranglin' and smokin' their pipes. 

They go 'roun^in gangs, 'cross the country an back, 

Fer they don't want to fight 'neath John Bull's Union Jack. 



^ 



No mon shud be governed widout ' 

If ye do_ theys a row comin' on divil bint — 

An our Woodrow spoke truth, whin he sid the shmall state 

Had the roits ave the big ones, and shud not gravitate 

Below their old livel. and the Oirish I say. 

Are as good as the bist ave them all. ony day, 

And I hope Mick McShone thot the day is soon due 

Whin the Oirish ul fight neath the rid, white an blue. 



^ 



Ef they're short a flag Mickey, to fight by, be-dad. 
Sure theys wan over here (bettem ever they had). 
Weth stars and stripes on ut of rid, whoite an blue, 
'Tis the greatest old buntin' thot iver was flew — 
Shure ut stands for the whole thot the Sen-Finners love 
And ut's free as the sky an the air up above. 
We'd sure make 'm welcome, to fight this job through, 
Ef they'll wrap all of Ireland, in the rid, white and blue. 



ppsisi anb tfje pee 



Tom Skeller went from Iowa down into south New Mexico, 

An' got a irrigation job, a-spreadin' water to an' fro, 

An' bein' used in Iowa to temper'ture a little cool. 

Jest almos' smothered with the heat, an' worked, an' sweat jest like a mule. 

Tom's boss come by, an' Tom says he, "That sun is hotter'n blazes, an 

How you can be so nice an cool is more'n I kin understand." 

"I'll bet a five that I can strip to nothin' but my hide on me 

An' stsm' humped up in that there sun a hull durned hour," says Boss, by gee. 



Well, Tom, he bet, an' held the watch. The Boss jest humped there un- 
concerned 
Until the time weis almos' up, an' then Tom muttered, "I'll be dumed 
Ei I'm a-goin' to jest stan" here an' let 'im win that five from me." 
An' pulled a sun glass out an' put the focus on his back, and he 
Begin to wiggle back an' forth, an moeui a little soft an' low. 
But Tom just held the focus on. an' burned 'im to the reddest glow. 
An' when the skin begun to fry an' blister up an' then to crack. 
Boss sais, I'll lose that five if you will knock that dam bee off my back." 



Raiser Pill 



^Tiaj God in his labors made earth and the stars. 

And placed upon earth man to rule in his way. 
And put in the slc>- sun, and Saturn, and Mars. 

I don't think he thought that at some future day. 
^"hen confusion at Babel produced the world's tongues. 

.And produced the great bedlam where all had been still. 
That there'd be one among them with leather for lungs 

To defy the whole world like has done Kaiser Bill. 



^ 



There's only just two — there's just Bill and God — 

.\nd accortling to Bill, God has nothing to say. 
And those who oppose him should go 'neath the sod. 

And God's laws stand for nothing for ever and a>-e. 
But there comes to his vision a nation most grand. 

That will stand for humanity, yes. e'en xintil 
He's been put in his place, and been made understand 

That there's others on earth besides just ICaiser Bill. 



^ 



U'"hen Bill learned to talk, why, the first thing he learned 

^'as to "Hock for the Kaiser" thru both day and night. 
Now he's hocked his whole nation, and also has earned 

The name of murderer in God's holy sight. 
^Tiai he comes before God in the last judgment day 

And accounts in the reckoning for each debt and bill. 
He'll find to his sorrow he can't have his way 

And there's some cme around there besides Kaiser Bill. 



The wail of the orphan for jjarents that's dead. 

TTie moan of the twisted, shell-torn as they lay, 
Calls down a black curse on his Kaiserly head 

That only eternity's damming can pay. 
He's a sore on the world — humanity's bane — 

A cancer that's pwitrid. and never until 
Like the millions before him in death he is ladn 

Om the world rest in peace from this "mutt" Kaiser BilL 



(goob ©Ih 3ab 



"^liat is home without a mother." is the motto o'er the door. 
And "God bless our homes" another that we've read in days of yore 
And I've often, often wondered where poor old dad would come in. 
For no sign eisks God to bless him o'er the door as he comes in. 
Dad he gets up in the morning, lights the fire and cooks an egg. 
If he gets a favor done him he has to kneel and beg 
Mother's still in bed a sleepin' dead's a log in mind and booe. 
While poor Dad is softly creeping 'round the kitchen aD akoe. 



He pays the butcher and the baker and the milk man. too. for sure 

And his wage check is depleted more than half inside an hour. 

And if anything like noise is heard within the house at night. 

Dad must go and hunt the burglar — knock him down smd have a fight. 

Mother dams the socks and fixes up the clothes for all. 1 guess 

Dad he bought the whole caboodle — socks and clothes you most confess 

Mother she cans all the fruit and Dad he bought it at the store. 

And the sugar, jars and rubbers, gas to cook it and lots more. 



Dad he buys the chicken for the Sunday dinner and by heck 

.\fter all the rest is et up Dad ran pick the back and neck. 

^"hat is home without a Mother? U"hat is home without a Dad? 

Mother's keepin boarders generally when Dad sleeps beneath a slab. 

Dad. you poor neglected "geezer " you who work from early mom. 

U"hat would this old world amount to if you never had been bom? 

So 1 fill the wine glass full up overflowing, for I'm glad 

To stand up to all the world and drink your health my good old Dad. 



>toimmmg 



Whitcomb Riley one time wrote about the old time swimming hole. 

Where the trees hung o'er with many a drooping Urab, 
But he sure forgot to mention the bloodsuckers, snags and poles 

That we sometimes went against when in to swim; 
Also when we hurried up to dress, found clothes ties in a knot. 

We shed some angry tears with faces grim. 
We'd 'a' fixed the one that done it and we'd shown him what was what 
That tied out clothes when we went in to swim. 



ai Host (gem 



Once there was a jewel in settings of gold. 

The lights of the world glinted out from its face. 

Its value? All gems of the world could enfold 
Themselves into one and could not take its place. 

Its name? You must guess it if only you would. 

But it sometimes is rare, and it's pure womanhood. 



The jewel was lost from its setting one day. 

And bounced on the sidewalk — went rolling along; 

Was picked up by a few for an idle hour's play, 

And dropped once again 'neath the feet of the throng. 

Some, indeed, tried to polish to the luster of yore. 

But always 'tytas dimmer than each time before. 



It soon reached the gutter that ran by the way: 

'Twas kicked there by some one while passing in scorn. 

'Midst the stench and the filth of the gutter it lay. 

Till picked up by a workmam — 'twas chipped, stained and worn. 

He had seen it a-glitter as shining it lay 

In the gold of its setting, long days gone away. 



^ 



He tried to repolish, and worked night and day. 

For a polish he used love, kindness and true. 
Until in despair he took it away 

To have it recut, but 'twas staiined thru and thru. 
So 'twas thrown by forever, and there it will lay 
In the heaps of refuse until carried away. 



Mbp'g tlje ^feectet ^npijoto 



With my hands all swelled and welted 

An my face all covered oer 

With big blotches from the Skeeters 

Bitten me. I'm blasted sore 

And the itchin and the burnin 

As I foUer up the plow 

Makes me speculate and wonder — 

Why's a Sheeter anyhow? 

^^ 

The Great Creator was a sweatin 
When he made this here old world. 
And the day was hot amd sultry — 
Made his temper cross and gnurled 
So he ups and makes the Skeeter 
Just ter make a human vow 
That he'd like to know the reason 
Why's a Skeeter anyhow? 



He's the cause of more hard cussin 
In the darkness of the night. 
And ye belt yer self to smash him 
But the cuss heis made his flight. 
Then ye lay and toss and tumble 
Yer all sweat and welted now 
And ye wonder why the Dickens 
Is a Skeeter sinyhow? 



It may be that he was put here 
Just ter rause a regular hob 
And if that's what God intended 
Why he works good at his job 
He's a "dinger" at surprisin folks. 
And brandin em I low 
An it aint no use ter wonder 
Why's the Skeeter anyhow? 



(golb m&o 



Where there's love no gold is needed " some fool geezer made remark 

But he must of lived in ages when the people went plumb stark 

Nature naked, eind they didn't have ter buy no sorter clothes — 

It shore don't work in these times fstiles and fixin's) goodness knows. 

Them days mam jest took 'is club emd knocked a young steer on the head 

Et the meat and used the hide ter make 'isself a sleepin bed. 

An 'is woman didn't have no "shoe horn" skirt ter wear, I'm told. 

So of course if they had love they got along without the gold. 



Now days love don't pay the butcher ner the grocery man. you bet, 

Ner the house rent er the meter, er whatever else ye get; 

Ner it won't get shoes for kiddies, ner it won't keep em in school 

An the mein that thinks t'will now days is a bloomin love sick fool. 

It won't take ye to the "movies" ner no other place, by jings. 

An without some gold mixed in it, it'll spread its shiny wings. 

It won't buy coal in winter ner pertect ye from the cold, 

An I find that, 'long with love, I've got ter have a little gold. 



Salute tfft Jflag 



I saw an old man. gray of head, 

While walking down a shaded street. 
Meet with a column of Spanish vets. 

And tip his hat £is marching feet 
Were passing by. and up above 

Old glory fluttered in the breeze. 
'Twas his salute in reverent love 

To his own flag beneath the trees. 



^ 



Maybe he'd seen that dear old flag 

Shell torn and ragged as he lay 
Wounded upon some battle field. 

Homeless and friendless, far away. 
And as it waved above his head. 

His old heart swelled, feet ceased to drag. 
His slow walk changed to martial tread. 

As he saluted it — OUR flag. 



^ 



Young man, sis passing swift along 

The crowded street there by the way. 
You chance to look above the throng. 

And see the stars and stripes so gay. 
Take off your hat the instant you 

Are neath its folds, so bright and grand. 
It means more than your life is due 

To keep it if you'd understand. 



please, OTeatijcr iWan 



We're sick and tired of winter days. 

Frigidity, of wind eind rain. 
We've tried to figure out some ways 

To have old summer time again. 
But 'tain't no use to try to mend 

The ways that nature does her task. 
But ask the weather mein to bend 

His will for betterment, we ask. 



What use to freeze us mortals stiff? 

What use to burden with a cold? 
What use to have to swing ein biff 

Our hands until we're stiff and old? 
We want but httle here below. 

And only want a warmer clime. 
So weather man. we'll let you know 

We want some GOOD OLD SUMMER TIME. 



ilaming tfje I^toing 



Once on a time a doctor, (old in service and years) 
Answered a ceJl to a home one night, and found the parents in tears. 
Twin boys soon came to bless their home, and when the babies came, 
Twas left to the good old doctor to give them each a name. 



"Pete and Repeat are appropriate," he quickly did declare. 
And those were the names agreed upon, between them then and there. 
Two years rolled 'round and twin girls came (via the "stork" one night) 
And the doctor was told to give them names, and be sure he named the 



right. 



Kate and Duplicate he chose, and the babies grew apace: 

And when they were three orf our years old, the father with gloomy face 

Appeared at the doctor's office door and said without a smile, 

"I guess we'll need some more help Doc, so you'd better come after while." 



Again twin boys arrived to them and the doctor chuckled in glee, 

■'I've got some names for them, you bet, and I'll give them now," said h 

"Max eind Climax you shall be known wherever you may go 

For you've certainly capped the clima here, jes' so!" said the doctor, "jes" so!" 



;i Mv l^omt 0n t\)t ^ioux 



I have wandered many places 

And have met with many faces 

But there's still a sweet remembrance of the years that have gone by 

And I never shall forget them 

And my memory would not let them 

Those old years of boyhood's pleeisure, fade away from me and die. 

By old Pierson creek I'd wander. 

In the sun away back yonder 

And many times I fell in and was wetted through and through 

But the ducking was a pleasure 

I enjoyed it without measure 

And I often live my days again all over on the Sioux. 



^ 



Many times I well remember 

When the cold month of December 

Brought the snow drifts and beg£ui to fill the road twixt house and hill 

Then we'd all begin to shiver 

And the bayou and the river 

Would be frozen to the bottom even like the little rill. 

Then when leaving in the morning 

To go skating, Mother's warning 

Don't forget to look for air holes boys whatever you may do 

Then we'd go and skate, well knowing 

That a fire was ever glowing 

In that little old rough log house neath the hill beside the Sioux. 



^ 



Many years have gone forever 

And I never will — no never. 

See again those good old times that make my heart with rapture thrill 

And my memory returning 

Oft times causes me a yearning 

For those boyhood days of mine I spent around Correctionville 

In my mind I often wander 

Through those woods away back yonder 

On the hill side south of Flemmings where the wild thorn-apple grew 

The old house is gone and rearing 

It's red roof within the clearing 

Stands a new and modem cottage where my home stood on the Sioux. 



fiabing 



'Tis hard to shave when whiskers hurt, and cheeks and chin are full of pain. 
When you must give the "knife" a firt and go all over it again. 
And when you've done it all up smooth and you're as slick 's a cheese house rat. 
And put the toilets on that soothe and think you know just where you're at. 
The pleasure of the "feel" is gone — your thoughts are of the coming day. 
When growing bristles make you moan, as through the hide they force their 
way. 



Then pimples rise and whitened top. up in their center there is reared. 

And mother lets the tweezers drop, and gently pulls the little beard. 

And wonders why you strike and kick, Tnd cuss, and howl out with the pain. 

And hunts a place to do the trick, eaxctly like she did again. 

I'd like to raise a flowing beard 'bout two feet long would be my style). 

If 'twouldn't get all stuck €in' smeared from eating Mail Pouch all the whil e 



When face and neck is bloched and sore, emd just aa tender as your eye. 
And wife sees stubble out galore, you've got to shave or she'll most cry. 
For "you just look so rough and black, and dirt has crusted in between," 
And if you don't just toe the crack, eind shave, she's sure to vent her spleen. 
All whiskers should be down below, where awful punishments should be. 
Where wicked mortals ought to go and have to shave eternally. 



tCtie ^ebbler Mm 



Sometimes when I'm a-sleeping in the bright and early mom. 

And a-resting just the finest that I have since I was bom. 

In my dreams when I'm a-sleeping comes to me the distant wail 

Of a peddler in his wagon, yelling out his wares for sale. 

It's potatoes and bemanas, eind oranges and plums. 

And asparagus and cabbage, and his fingers £md his thumbs 

Are covered o'er with dirt and juice, with gumbo and some sand. 

That he wipes off on his overalls — • this yelling peddler man. 



^ 



He's adept at waking sleepy folks out of a dreamy snooze. 

And he'll sell you if you don't look out, by hook, or crook, or ruse. 

Some spotted old bananas, or lettuce wilted down. 

And for being best at graifting folks is entitled to the crown 

But what makes me peeved and grouchy is his knocking on the door 

After I have bought some of him and he wants to sell me more; 

Or another one comes after him to sell me if he can. 

Then I want to bust the "crystal" on the omery peddler man 



^ 



I sing my little song of "Now I lay me down to sleep," 
And I want to lay me down and drop in slumber long and < 
When the time's right after dinner in the early afternoon, 
But I ain't jJlowed to do it for his monotonous croon, 
I guess I'll get a caimon emd mount it on the lawn. 
And when a peddler sees it he'll be still and trundle on; 
But if he don't, and wakes me, I'll shoot him if I can. 
For I'm sure just plumb disgusted with the omery peddler 



Cfjrisitmasi i^igftt 



Long years ago a bright and shinning star 
Shone in the east, and t'was seen from afar 
By shepards with their flocks in early mom 
They followed it and found that Christ was bor 



^ 



Rich gifts were brought by wealthy men of old 
Of precious stones and spices, of silver and of gold. 
They worshipped him, our Saviour, and tho of low degr 
He came into the world to save us all, both you and me 



This Christmas night, the birthday of our Lord, 

We meet to celebrate his birth eind praise his holy word; 

To give and receive in his own loving way 

And live his bless'd example day by day. 



^ 



Then let us on this night live like to him when here: 

Let joy be unconfined; let no one shed a tear: 

Make peace with all our foes, live in the Christian light 

Peace upon earth and good will to all men this Christmas night. 



Columbia ^toafee 



Awake, oh Columbia, the day's dawn is breaking. 

Over thy hills comes the bugle's clear call. 
Sons are arising, their homes they're forsaking. 

To fight for the rights and the freedom of eJl. 
TTiy flag in the winds of the world ever waving. 

A message of hope to the millions now bound. 
And thy freed hands extended in sympathy — • braving 

The hatred of kings of the nations around. 
Tl>e cry of the wounded, the starving, the falling, 

Fell not on deaf ears, but has roused thee from sleep. 
And now you arise to answer their calling 

TTiat comes to thee over the death ridden deep. 



From foothills and mountains, from out of the valley. 

There comes ever to thee thy meuihood eind brawn. 
To answer the bugle that ceJled them to rally 

Around thee and fight for the world a bright dawn. 
For humanity's sake they blood and thy treasure 

Is laid on the altar unstinted emd free. 
And expended by thee for its sake without measure 

To better the world — make it better to see. 
So we're standing "Attention" with flags proudly waving. 

The grandest flag ever was flung in the air. 
No reward do we ask, nor einy are craving. 

But the right of a nation to go anywhere. 



^ 



The shades of Paul Jones and of Perry still linger, 

And Farragut, too, and Dewey and Schley. 
And each one and all are pointing a finger 

To the harbor at Kiel, though far emd away. 
Gremt, Lee zind Meade, and "Pap" Thomas, too. 

Though gone are still with thee from over the way. 
Their spirits will lead thee to victory 

And give to the world a fair, brighter day. 
Look upward, Columbia, the stars and strips wave 

O'er our country whose mission is blessed by our God, 
For 'tis truly the flag of the true and the brave. 

The greatest that waves, above sea or the sod. 



WlWh Jf las «^ Mm 



Which flag is mine? 
The one that flies. 
O'er none but righteous battle line, 
With rippling stripes against the skies. 
And stands for freedom to the man 
That pulled it up by lanyard line. 
And honors it, whene'er he can — 
The stars and staripes are always mine. 



Where stars and stripes are 

It stands to aid those that. 

Have fought and filled a lowly grave 

That we who live be ever 1 



WBit'xt ^icfeerg"=Put 



We're a nation of bom kickers, and we're never satisfied: 

When we start a thing we're stickers, as has always proved when tried. 

And we kick against the presidents, the congresses Eind all, 

And then when 'lection time rolls 'round we 'lect them mostly all. 

But let some spriggy nation tramp on Uncle Sam's coat tail. 

There'll be an awful rumpus a-starting without fail. 

There won't be many of us a-hanging back aind lag. 

Tho' kickers on most emything, we'll fight for our old flag. 



^ 



We're kicking just at present on the graft, H. C. of L., 

And if we find the grafters, we'll surely give 'm — ■ — — • 

We kick because the government don't set the price of food. 

And while some of us are ranting, the others sit emd brood. 

We kicked because the state was "wet," emd now because it's "dry," 

And kick on woman's suffrage (but they'll get it by emd by). 

We're always helping some one out, 'bout which we never brag. 

And we'll all fight just like bear-cats for honor and the flag. 



We'll fight, if need be die for it, and wave it upon high; 

We'll stand, salute, bare headed when we see it in the sky. 

We kick about the draft law, and about the volunteer. 

But break old glory to the breeze emd listen to us cheer. 

I suppose that there was kickers back in 1 776, 

And there's "Tories" here among us all up to traitorous tricks. 

And while we are a-kicking, we'll get a rope emd drag 

The treutor to the highest pole that dares to slight the flag. 



©ouble Croggeb 



In this day of the world, when progress is fast, and all things are moving at 

furious pace, 
^'"hen things are put over that stop you aghast, and you stand still eind wonder 

at all the disgrace, 
V^Tien you think you can count your friends by the score, and out of them all 

there one tried and true. 
Whose latch-strings for you always hangs on the door, and you know there 

is always a welcome for you. 
Though you've given your best of labor before, and nursed when in sickness 

and fever they've tossed. 
You'll find when they don't need your help any more, your friendship is 

spumed and you're double-crossed. 



In this day the word "friend" is only a name, its meaning is measured by 

dollars or dimes. 
1 t's a hard thing to say, but then, just the same, in my life I have seen it proved 

out many times. 
If you help them, you're figured a "John Easymark," whose hide is some tender 

and easy to skin. 
And to trample your friendship is only a lark, a good joke put over and surely 

no sin. 
They say that true friendship is gold in the bank, and my bank book will show 

that for me 'tis a frost. 
For it's "dog to eat dog" and no one to thank, in this day of false friends 

when you get double-crossed. 



^ 



Go bring home your bacon, don't stop by the way, at the call of some "friend" 

who's spotted the meat. 
Don't go 50-30, for it's likely next day you'd get double-crossed if you met 

on the street. 
Have you stopped 'long life's pathway, and turned 'round and gazed back 

o'er the years thru which you have trod? 
If you haven't, just do it. and you'll be amazed at the crossing that's done 

'neath the bright cloak of God. 
We are all bits of driftwood on Ufe's rushing tide, and some day on the beach 

we're sure to be tossed. 
But whatever our station, where'er we abide, if we trust to a friendship we'll 

be double-crossed. 



Etoo Eoabs of Mt 



I stood by the side of a dusty road — a road all traveled and worn. 

And I wondered to where it led and why 'twas so stony and rough and torn 

And I asked a man all feeble and old, and white was his old head. 

Where leads this road and what's its name? 'Tis the road of life, "he said 

"And this is but a branch of it. for it forks way back behind — 

I left the main road in my youth, when I was foolish and blind, 

TTie main road runs thru grassy fields and on o'er flowered plain. 

And once you've left it to come this way, 'tis hard to get back again. 



I saw men pass at a swinging gait, some leaped the ruts in the road 
And some of them fell beside the way beneath some other one's load. 
And the other one neither stopped to look, nor heeded his helpless cry, 
Buj placed the burden on someone else that chanced to be {Missing by 
And women, too, were in the crowds of people on this rough way, 
And some were dressed in rags eind some in silk the finest and gay. 
And 1 made my way to the other road, to the fork way back behind. 
Where the old man said that he turned off when he was foolish and blind. 



^ 



I saw men pass on the other road with a swinging easy stride. 

And I saw a young vaan strong in health and by him stood his bride; 

And they laughingly gathered their burden up and kissed with a happy nod 

And passed a-down the smooth straight road that leads to Heaven and God. 

1 stood there long by the forks of the road and watched them all go by 

On the roads that lead o'er life's hilltop, where the ground comes to the sky. 

And 1 ■ ve asked them all as they passed along — the swift, the Isune and slow. 

Where leads these roads? They answer cind say, "I can't tell — 1 do not 





')S to Come of jle? 



Daddie's workin' every day at the carpentering craft, 
Brother going to enlist to dodge selective draft; 
Sister goes to high school to learn the shorter hand, 
An says she'll do her little bit to back the nation's stand. 



^ 



Auntie's joined the Red Cross, Uncle officer's school: 

Says he'll make a man out of a weary Willie fool. 

All are doing sJl they can, so far as I can see; 

But what I sure can't understand is "what's to come of me>" 



#oob Jf elloto Mm 



At the good Christmas time when for some is £ill cheer. 
And the good of the world is all coming our way. 
Let's never forget that for some times are dread. 
And nothing to show them God's love and his way. 
When the coal bin is empty, and clothes there are few. 
And around the frail bodies the winter winds fjin. 
Let's dig in our pockets for them — I and you. 
Be a good "Yellow Dog" or a "good fellow raem." 



^ 



There are thousands that's needy right near our own homes. 

There are blue little toes almost out on the ground. 

When they ask us for bread, let's not heind to them stones. 

But help what we can where e'er they are found. 

Pass it on in His name, though a sinner you be. 

Sign one — for humanity join the big clan; 

Be a big "Yellow Dog" with a tag showing free. 

Or join the big order of good fellow mein. 



When you rise Christmas morning — hear bells ringing loud, 
Of the good will of man, with peace in the world; 
You can hold up your head and you'll feel mighty proud 
If you know some small tots in warm blankets are curled. 
Be it httle or much that you've done, you can know 
That you've done your full share, and the best that you cein. 
For some one in the ditch by the road where you go. 
And you've made of yourself just a good fellow man. 



•a Mcatfjer l^anc 



When the first snow of the winter starts a fallin round the shack 

An' the wind just grabs it up an" whirls it roun' 

As I sit here by the fire, chills are chasin up my back 

Ab I see the snow a driftin o'er the groun. 

Then the thots of home and Mother comes a chasin through my mind. 

An' a weariness is comin over me 

Of a holdin down this homestead an' I think I'll try to find 

A wife to chop the wood an' cook for me. 



^ 



Now the snow has quit a-fallin' and the wind has settled do 

An' the world looks bright an cheerful an' the sun. 

Is a-meltin' of the snow drifts as they lay upon the groun. 

An' they'll all be gone by night most every one. 

So I'll just put off a-huntin' for the cook I spoke about 

For the sun is shinin' awful bright an' warm 

An' I'm 'fraid that if I get a cook she U be a lazy lout 

An' make me cut the wood in time of storm. 



Cte €?ti of a JMaib 



The eyes of a maid and the arms of a mein 

Rule this old world of ours. 

And the sun don't shine on a battle line 

But man's strength always towers. 

Above Eill things that are around — he's doing each his share, 

And in each man's mind, you'll always find 

Twas a maid's eyes sent him there. 

A pair of eyes have sent men out 

On a battle field to die. 

And they've turned men back on a backward track 

From a drunkard's grave to sigh. 

They've sent men into the senate's halls 

Where the lamps of knowledge glow 

And they've made men glide the toboggan slide 

To the depths of hell and woe. 

A womein's eyes can rule the world — an incentive to her mate man. 

Each place on earth where a flag's unfurled 

Her influence they understand 

She can meike them bad or make them sad 

It's according to what's the prize. 

With her lashes curled she rules the world. 

Through man with her fleishing eyes. 

And man in the hey-day of his youth 

Has power in rich, red blood 

And its radiant glow, make women go 

To hades on its crimson flood 

But the pumping heart made strong with wine 

Sends it coursing through her veins 

And she finds her place in man's embrace 

Regardless of well known stadns. 



So the eyes of a msiid, and the arms of a m 

Rule this old plannet bail. 

And reforms may sweep and forever creep 

Until the last night's fall. 

But so long as a maid has speaking eyes 

'Neath hair that's wisped and curled. 

She'll send men out £ind all about 

To rule or ruin the world. 



Peacon Higlit of tlje Morlb 



What is it that glints over valley and hill with the glow of a setting sun. 

The sight which causes my being to thrill, as 1 think of the love its won? 

And I'm proud to be living within its light, in a home beneath its fold. 

For it stands for everything that's right, and it shines with a light untold. 

It shines as a guide to down trodden man. of nations of serfs so low, 

And has led them up from the quickening sand of their national sloughs below- 

And I hail this grandest of all flags that has ever been unfurled. 

And my step as I follow it never lags — it's the bright beacon light of the world. 



^ 



It lights the dark spots of national wrongs, euid 'twill clear all their troubles 

away; 
Make their people to sing the gladdest of songs and lighten their hearts every 

day. 
It's waving today on a bleak battle line, 'midst the shot aind shell of the foe. 
And I'm proud to proclaim it as your flag emd mine — the flag of the high 

and low. 
Where it waves men are brave; where it stays men are free — it stands for 

freedom of all. 
We worship it, love it, and will die if need be, before we'd allow it to fall; 
For we love its broad stripes eis it snaps in the eiir, eind its stripes are riffled 

and curled. 
It stands as a light to men everywhere — a bright beacon light to the world- 



0nv ^rice to ^ap 



Down through the years when the Liberty Bell 

Rang the glad message of freedom to «J1. 
For the ruling of kings it sounded the knell. 

And thousands since then have answered its call. 
Its ringing still echoes abroad o'er the land. 

And farther beyond and over the sea. 
Where liberty's crushed, emd war's firebrand 

Stops for naught in its path, but destroys with glee. 



^ 



Can we sit idly by while the murder of men 

And of innocent children euid women goes on? 
Cein we stand and do nothing to stop it. and then 

Kneel emd pray to the God that we're leaning upon? 
For humeinity's sake, we cein die if we need. 

To throttle this despot, this enslaver that brags 
That he'll yet enslave every nation and creed 

And drag in the dust their people and flags. 



^ 



When the stars and the stripes shall never more wave, 

A nation, all dead, will be wrapped in its fold. 
And the price we have paid of death and the grave 

Will be cheap for the peace of the world from this ghoul. 
Then shoulder to shoulder in remks let us stand. 

In blood and in treasure let's pay freedom's bill. 
Or leave to the world a dead, silent land — 

A cemetery nation, all silent and still. 



ifflafeing Ctjange 



Once in a City there lived a man. 

Who was very wealthy and thought h'e stand 

A better show for the kingdom come 

If he would set aside a sum 

Sufficient to pay eight hundred a year 

For three different ministers preaching there. 



Years rolled round and this old man 

Grew feeble and death soon gripped his hand 

He sent for all of the preachers three 

And stated to them that he'd like to see 

If each would grant his last request 

And put one thousand dollars on his dead breast. 



The ministers all of them agreed 
To lay aside all difference of creed 
And placed the money on his breast 
As was to them his last request. 
A Methodist and a Luthem Sweed 
And a Jewish Rabbi was each 




Time passed again and then one day. 

The two to the Rabbi then did say 

Pray tell us what way did you pay 

Your debt of a thousand on that day. 

Said the Rabbi. "Why ti's nothing strange. 

My check for dree thous«ind und took out der change.' 



Enocfeins Bomn ©nv pax 



We have all read of the troubles of the rural delivery man 
An' we know that he's put in his kick the best way that he can 
That its hard with froze-up fingers fer to gather in the cents 
But the reeison that he ain't been shot is jest a proverdence. 

Tho he's a buUy feller as feller's mostly goes 

It isn't right that in his rig he faJls eisleep an doze 

And lets his team go wemdering by the road ein' all aroun' 

Er breaking off our posts ein' knocking all our boxes down. 



Of course we've got a hammer an' a wire nail or two. 

An' a few more cedar posts to set where they've been broke by you. 

Now settin' posts in winter is enough sight harder than 

A pickin' pennies from the box by any rural man. 



Now we will all buy stamps of you if you'll jest stay awake 
An' drive yer blasted horses on the right road fer ter tatke. 
But. say! If you won't do this we farmers all will frown. 
Fur we're gittin mighty tried of your knockin' boxes down. 

Of course, yer jobs a hummer fer gittin' cold and sich. 

An' we never heard a rural man say he was gittin rich; 

But then, you know that's no excuse fer drivin' 'long the route 

An' knockin' down the boxes jest as soon as you start out. 



7^ 

We're ready now. an' willing to shake hemds hard and fast. 

An' let bygones be bygones an let the past be peist. 

We'll all be finer'n frog hair, an' won't put in any knocks. 

If you'll only watch yer drivin' ein' quit knockin' down our box. 



^onin {WBimm) 



Ahm a honin fer ye sweetheart down among de Georgia pine. 
When we wandered midst de laurel up along de mountain side. 
Ahm a honin fer ye ever an' Ah wEint ye to be mine; 
Ah jist hone tu be 'long with ye like we all uz used to bide, 
Ahm a honin jest tu glimpse de merry twinkle in yo' eye. 
When we two ud race togedder. an yo'd beat an' p>ass me by. 
An" yo'd pick de posies growin' by de trees, so big eui' tall. 
An' Ah tho't amongst de flowers you's de purtiest of all. 



^ 



Ahm a honin fer ye honey up here 'mong de drifs of snow, 
Ahm a honin tu be with ye whar de southern breezes blow, 
Whar de posies is a bloomin' an' de brids is singin' free, 
Ahm a honin fer de south Ian', and hits whar Ah ought to be. 
Ah can hear yo' voice a ceJlin' from de top of Raccoon hill. 
Ah can hear de sheep a bawlin' by de pen' down by de mill. 
Oh, Ahm honin. yes Ahm honin. fer de souf — fer you an' all. 
An Ahm goin' to quit raah moanin', ein' answer tu yo' call. 



^ 



Jes' at sunup in de mawnin' Ah can see de dewy gleam 
On de milhon blades of grjisses by de little mountain stream. 
An Ah hone tu feel de twitchin of de fish upon mah line. 
An' Ah hone tu have ye 'ith me leik Ah uster. honey mine; 
Ah can hear de magpie callin'. Ah cem see de woods aglow, 
Ah'cjin hear de yeller hammer on de dead tree down below, 
An Ah feel lak yo' was honin. dat same hone 'ats honin me. 
An Ahm goin' tu de souf Ian" whar Ah's bawn. an' ought to be. 



iHlotljer's Bap 



When "Mother's day" rolls 'round it brings to me 
A memory of a time that's passed away. 

When we lived childhood days — I know that she 
Has smiled though heavy-hearted at our play. 



And so this day we set apart to be 
Devoted to her solely, and we lay 

White flowers — emblems of her purity. 

Upon the brow we love this Mother's Day. 



Man Xtg ^be a lant 



Tuday an the strate Oi happened to mate 

Uh leddy all drissed up en stoile, 

Ut tuck all me since, 'twas uh grate providence 

Whin Oi gut me brith back afther phoile. 

Sure she had an a co-at, open's op be the throat 

An er gai-at (twas uh shart galivant) 

Th raison was plane — hur two fate cud be sane 

Stickin out uv a wan-legged pant. 



Howly Murther! sais Oi. an me riddy tu croi 

Wit grafe on me hart ut the soit 

Ef somethin'd go rong an she'd start to stip long 

An she'd fall whoy t'wud be a sore froit. 

An the pore leddy dear ud shed mony uh tear 

Oer what she wud help but she cant — 

She must folley the fashin ave mincin an dashin 

Along en a wan-legged pant. 



^ 



Phwin Oi was uh b'y in Oirland-oh jiy! 

Oi ramimber the soize — aiv the hoopes 

They tuck up such space, t'was sure no disgrace 

T' be crouded plumb af ave the stoopes: 

But now theyr cut down unteil nixt to the groun 

They'r to narrer t' walk — (sure they cant) 

But go mincin along in the thick ave th throng 

Weth both fate en wan leg ave a pant. 



(gains ^ome 



A Swede was living on a homestead farm 

In a shanty built of sod. 

Who didn't know what a Bible was 

And knew not of God. 

He had no trouble on his mind 

Had money for every need. 

And though he wjis warned about his soul 

To the warning gave no heed. 



^ 



One night a cyclone came along 

And tore his shanty down. 

It took the Swensk up in the air. 

And spun him round and round. 

It carried him about a mile 

And dropped him in a slough. 

He wallowed around there in the mud 

And didn't know what to do. 



A preacher came that way eind thot 

That if he'd talk a while. 

He'd show to him the narrow way 

But the swensk would only smile. 

He told him God was surely with him 

On his airial bum 

But the swede then answered, if he was, 

"Ha mus have bane go'n some." 



WiUlt ^attcreb tfje Eain 



Back o'er the years my memory wanders 

Back to my boyhood that seems like a dream. 
Over those old days my mind often ponders. 

And through memory's eye often catches a gleam 
Of the pastimes and pleasures of life — a full meeisure 

Of sorrows came, too, of trouble and pain. 
But one memory stays that to me is a treeisure — 

A sleep in the attic while pattered the rain. 



^ 



To awake in the morning and list to its purring. 

And know that the fields had no labor for me. 
Then to snooze one more hour, never moving or stirring. 

While the patter kept on like a sweet melody. 
Though deep in the sleep of a tired boy's slumber. 

The patter on roof sounded ever so plain. 
Though my years be five-score, I shall always remember 

Those sleeps in the attic while pattered the rain. 



Father's beat on the stove pipe to wake us each morning 

Meant time to get up — quickly 'tweis to be done; 
And his "Come, boys," while pounding to us was a warning 

That to call us again wouldn't mean any fun. 
But still I have listened, and emswered his calling. 

And lay there till sleep closed my eyelids again; 
Though {isleep I could still hear it softly a-falling. 

The lulling, soft pattering down of the rain. 



(Kfje ^canbalmonger'g Bream 



The scandaJmonger drew her chair one night close to the stove. 
And after getting nicely fixed and settled, then she strove 
To fix her thoughts on some things but soon her head o'er leans 
And fcilling dead eisleep the old girl has some pleeis<int (?) dreams. 



She dreamed she saw a lady of pure and perfect mind. 

Who stood high in society a queen of women kind. 

Then came her sland'rous whisperings that flew from place to place. 

That smirched her good emd honored name and brought her to disgrace. 



No girl escaped her snaky tongue, but verbal mud she threw 
And gloated oer the homes she'd wrecked, and hearts she'd broken too. 
And as she dreamed there passed before her mind's eye in a row 
The plantom forms of those whom she had slandered long ago. 



^ 



Sleep on and dream, there'll come a time some day when you'll awake. 
And find that you've been bitten by your pet, a slsmdrous snaJce. 
There's no doubt as to your future, which ever way you turn. 
If you are not cremated here, in the next world you will bum. 



^Before anb ^fter 



Before a man is married he is thinking all the time — 

If 1 only had a woman that would save each cent and dime: 

She could save most all my eeimings an' we'd put them in the bank, 

'Stead of doin' as I'm doin' now — a £illin' up my tank. 



Bye an' bye he gits his "guiney" and straight way she does begii 
Fer to spend his weekly eamin's — spendin' money just Uke sin; 
As fer fixin' up a bank account, he couldn't even try. 
Only just could keep a diggin' till he thinks he s\ire will die. 



^ 



Pretty soon there comes the baby and the scrap begins anew. 
And the poor lad 'gins to wonder whs* on earth he's going to do: 
So he just keeps on a strugglin'. with things gettin' worse, of course 
An the windup of the business is — when both git a divorce. 



i^eto gears l^otos 



Here now we stand and look away 

Back o'er the years that's past away and gone. 

Back o'er the road from youth to aged gray. 

Footprints we see where we have left the narrow way. 

Always returning back with many a tear. 

Striving and struggling along from day to day 

Repentent. and starting new with each New Year. 



So raise our heads, and in our hearts msike one more vow 

To trod the narrow way whose stony bead 

Leads on to peace and happiness we know. 

Soon comes the time when we are dead 

^^^len comes the time to lay our tried bodies down 

This we can do without a fear. 

Then we can see our future, bright without a frown. 

By living out the vows of each New Year. 



WBiiftn Masi{) Bap 



I alus no wen weish day time is gittin close, ya bet. 

Cause Sunday nite Ma 'gins to wurry 'roun a lot and fret. 

An Ma tells Pa to split sum bords to make the worter bile 

An fix the kindlin in the stove and fiU the lamp with ile 

Then Pa he puts the biler on an fills it ta the top 

An carries worter ta soke close twell he csin almost drop. 

An nen he iles the washin' sheen an runs it roun em roun 

Fer Monday mornin' (fore A. M.'s) when wash day rolls aroun. 



^ 



'Bout fore on Monday mornin the alurm kiks up er row 
An Ma she golts Pa in the ribs an sais "ta git up naow," 
Then Pa he lites the fire em puts the coffey on the gass 
An they drink er cup er coffey, an eat bred and garden sass. 
Pa's sleepy and he's grouchy, sais he won't take Ma's ole lip 
An Ma she takes the wash bord and swats Pa on the hip. 
But they both do aout the washin and they both uv got a frov 
Cuz Pa's gut to du iz days work tu wen wash day rolls aroun. 



Cljanfeful 




You have asked me what I am thankful for and I 'II tell you now, said he 
Since you've £isked me I know of a lot of things that I'm glad never happened 

to me; 
Via glad I'm happy and have my home — a place where warm fire bums — 
For the wife eind babes that love me — for the chance to live and learn ; 
For health and strength to do my work and honsetly earn my wage, 
And every year that passes I'm e'en thankful for old age. 



I'm themkful that death did not befall one loved one in the year 
An I'm glad that an unjust word from me has never caused a tear; 
I'm glad that war isn't in our land, destrojang the high and low, 
And with it famine heind in hand where ever it would go, 
I'm thankfull for all these my friend — as much so as can be 
And for all of the bounteous crops to feed the starving o'er the 



(gretcljen's; f^roubles; 



In Diechlund twendy-one years ago 

They toll mi eck been nom 
In a lettle house so broad und low 

On a winter Sunday mom. 
In time eck grows to a womans size 

Und denk eck vill be free. 
Of homesteade land eck get un prize 

In great South Dakota, f 



^^ 



Exk get mine claim not far fren Vail 

On a blace dots called lake flat 
Eck glick der blace der best of all 

Und know chust vere I'm at, 
I'm close beside un granky sweed 

Dat dond know nix-com rouse. 
To get him aut, a dub eck need 

To chase him from mine house. 



Cijrisftmaji €be 



Tonight we meet to celebrate the birth 
Of Christ and his arrival here on earth. 
Although of lowly birth, yet still he stands. 
A Prince of all the world eind every land. 

He loved the world that once he died to save 
For this same love he filled a lowly grave. 
Tho raised from death and passed to heaven above. 
Still for the world he interceeds with wondrous love. 



Let not your hearts with sadness throb, but he 
Full of his love, and peace, and harmony. 
Let the glad cry of Angels ever blend 
With peace on earth and good-will to all men. 



^ 



Then on this night, most blessed of all the year. 
Emulate the ways of Christ when he was here. 
Give and receive in his own way and light 
Let joy be unconfined this Christmas night. 



tlljc iWan PeJjinb tJje ^lane 



We have red that feller's po-em of the man behind the plow 

An we red about the men behin the gun. 

Till I think its gitting almost time (an I'm goin' to do it now) 

Tu write about the man that earns 'is "mon," 

He's as hard a workin' chap as travels down life's dusty way. 

An' he makes his way thru life 'ith brawn an brain. 

Just go where a hammer's 'nockin' an you'll see him any day, 

He's the mem that works behin the saw and plane. 



You will find 'im workin in the air, a pencil in 'is hat. 

While 'is boss is standin' safe down on the groun. 

But, of course, it ain't no different — you never think of t 

But the scaffol breaks — he comes a whirlin down; 

The ambulance comes a buzzin an they load the pieces in. 

They fix an patch 'im up some way again. 

But he'll always be a cripple — 'e can either smile er grin 

It's up to 'im — the man behind the plane. 



^ 



The boss'U send 'im on the hill to fix some ole "hawk's nest,' 

An when he finds the place she'll start to prate. 

About how much he gets an 'our, an "does he stop to rest," 

An "it's after eight o'clock and he is late." 

An then she'll take 'im up the stairs to cut a doorway thru. 

An kick on plaster dust 'till he's insane 

But that don't make no difference, 'e's supf>oesd to see it thr 

'E's a patient cuss, this man behind the plane. 



^ 



'E can fall em break his bones, an "e can pound 'is bloomin thumb, 

'E can work when it is hot an when it's rain; 

An when some old "hen" lies on him and puts 'im on the bum, 

'E sore, but still 'e hums some sweet refrain. 

So when 'e falls a hundred feet and busts his bloomin bones 

If's 'e's dead be glad 'e is and out of pain 

Fer they's hundreds of em growin as thick as bricks an stones 

Tu replace the man that used to push a plane. 



Spring ^ifeg 



Most every spring they's somethin' seems to be a ailin' me, 

They's a gonness to my system, I declare. 

An' I jest don't want to move around — a sort of scarcity 

Of ambition in my make-up anywhere. 

But this spring I am reminded of what Whitcom Riley wrote 

Of the frost upon the punkin an' the vine. 

An' I jest cein't help but notice I'm as frisky as a shote 

An' they's nothing 'rong with this ole frame of mine. 



^ 



One day the same ole feelin' came s-stealing in my bones 

(It must a bin 'bout aity in the sun) 

An" my arms they was a movin' like a pair of ole bee drones. 

An I felt as if my face an' ban's was skun. 

But the weather man he fixed it like he's lately seemed to do. 

An' that night he turned it colder'n any stone; 

Then I got hting-tankus, frisky-feelin', bully thru emd thru. 

An' I didn't have em aik in any bone. 



"When the frost is on the punkin, an' the fodders in the shock,' 

Is a fitten thing to rominate about. 

An' spring fever jest can't git a chance to give us arey' nock, 

Fer this coolness simply runs that feller out. 

The fire keeps a bumin', an the chilly winds they blow. 

An' we huddle 'round the kitchen stove each eve. 

An' the garden sass an' sich like uU never, never grow 

If we don't soon git warm weather, I believe. 



Ctje ^omesiteab iMan 



Oh the homestead man of the batchelor sort 
Is the duck that's full of fun 
He flips his flap jacks in the air 
And catches them every one. 

With some bacon fried and a crust of bread 
A gladsome song he'll sing, 
He don't care a cent what the world may say 
In the shanty he's a king. 



^ 



He goes to all of the shanty hops. 

And rattles his heels in glee 

He just don't care if this old world pops 

He's as happy as can be. 

He grabs and swings the homestead girl 

On "swing yer pardners all" 

But when duty calls to him he's sure 

To answer to the call. 



The homestead man may be all flecked 

With little chunks of dough. 

His hair may be all tangled up. 

And he's let his whiskers grow. 

His hands all black with cedar smoke 

And a layer of bacon fat. 

Just ask him for a bite to eat 

And you'll find where his heart is at. 



Miiat'g tlie ®ge of Uttbins 



What's the use of kicking, just because all of your life. 

You've quarrelled with your neighbors, and been in constant strife. 

And because they turned the tables, and beat you at your game. 

What's the use of kicking, when you are all to blame? 

Don't you think it better, to have a smiling face. 



show rage and 



time or place:" 



If you think that you can do it, just try it on and see 



good a Chr: 



as any one can be. 



What's the use of kicking, on your country or your town? 
What's the use of kicking on the country all around? 
What's the use of knocking on the poor down trodden man? 
What's the use to kick him, when he's down, because you can? 
Don't you think it better to take him by the hand, 
And try to brace him up a bit and make him understand. 
That the world's not all against him — He. standing all alone. 
Instead of blows with moral bricks, or hitting him with stones? 



^ 



Do not forget a minute that if you were in his shoes. 

You might do just as he did, go fight beer £ind booze, 

Maybe if your babes were hungry and your wife was sick in bed. 

And thoughts of them kept running thru your mind until your head 

Seemed almost split asunder and your mind had slipped away, 

If you'd hold him up a bit don't you think that it would pay? 

Think it over just a minute and I think that you will find 

You'll enjoy more of life's pleeisures, and have more peace of mind. 



fcUercp 



I new a feller once one time that thot his wife was up on speed 
Becus she wore them narrer skurts an alus sorter tuck the lead. 
An danced the tanger and the trot, the hesertate an all er them. 
An wuddent dance a dam kerdrill er anything along 'ith Lem. 
She tried to reason with im an she told im kerdrill steps was long, 
But Lem was full of jellercy and he got mad and done things rong. 



^ 



He'd orter jest of hunted 'round an copped out one of 'is ole flames, 
An had a ole hang-tankus time 'ith some of them there other "Janes." 
An when she danced the gobbler trot er danced sum other huggin thing, 
Lem oter jest of hopped rite out and cut a demdy piggin wing. 
It don't do enny good to mope, er let yer temper run off free. 
Ye caint have enny joy in life if yer chuck full of Jellercy. 



Thet bloomin "bug" has gut more eyes tu see things that will agervate. 
An seems jest like it aJus tries to make you say things that ye'l hate 
Tu think about in futer years when all yer trubble's blowed erway. 
An make yer wife shed lots of teers a thinkin of a long gone day 
When you stood up and tuck her han an sed ye'd 'onner her and be 
A lovin' husban, an ye wasn't chuck up full er Jellercy. 



Pupin' Coal 



They're a sorter onery feelin' that's a comin' over me. 
And its somethin' that's in both my mind and bone. 
An' it just keeps me a thinkin' an a worryin' — Oh, gee. 
It's a workin on me most when I'm alone, 
TTiese cold an' frosty momin's agravates me quite a bit - 
An' I can't git settled down ter save my soul. 
An' I seem ter be unable fer ter screw up any grit. 
An face the proposition — buyin' coaL 



This summer's bin a dinger fer headn' things around. 

An' my whole attention lately has been fixed 

On how ter keep myself from meltin" down upon the ground. 

An' this sudden frosty momin's got me mixed 

I can't just figger how ter jump, or what it's best ter do. 

It maybe best ter start to pay my toll. 

Of dollars ter the coal man same as I always used to do. 

An' hike away ter buy a ton er coal. 



CJje i^Dmesteab (girl 



The Homestead girl, the one with grit 
To come to the great out West? 
^XTiy stranger, theres many a one has lit 
On a quarter of land and is blessed 
^"ith breath and cheeks of a rosy red. 
And an appjetite like an athlete 
They'l ride any brook that >»-as ever led 
And with punchers they can compete. 



They read in the shack in the \»-inter time. 

^XTicn the wind in blowing cold 

And the wild wind sweeps with a regular rh> 

Still the homesteader girl is bold. 

She saddles her pony and rides away 

^Tiile the coyotes mournful cry 

Is waited to her from so far away 

That it seems like a d>-ing sigh. 



^ 



She is sung to sleep by the coyotes howl. 

And woke by the lark in the spring. 

She raises the chickens and other fowl 

.^d a happy song she'll sing. 

For the homestead man on the joining claim 

Has oftai, often tried. 

To win the homestead girl and fain 

Would make her a homestead bride. 



®l)c ^ttnh 



1 once knew a woman who schemed night and day 

To get rid of the dust and keep it away. 
From up on the mantle and off of each chair 

She just couldn't stand it to be an>-where 
Twas her nightmare by night and her worr>- by day. 

If you called there to visit, to you she would say. 
"I've not got time to visit, to visit's to shirk. 

And the way things are covered with dust, I must work.' 



She'd wash off the porch vines after a rain 

If the mud spattered on them, t'would give her a pain. 
She'd scrub, the well platform and also the pump. 

And from morning to night she would be on the jump. 
She'd scrub on the kids till their hides were all sore 

And then if they cried she'd scrub them some more. 
She fought dirt to a finish — especially dust 

She just couldn't rest for she thot that she must. 



^ 



U'ell. time passed along and she got old and gray. 

And though she was feeble kept dusting away 
She dusted her dresses, then dusted her shrx>ud 

And when she was d>-ing. kept moaning aloud 
"There's one thing I hate about d>-ing this way, 

I know in my mind that at some future day, 
I'll be buried in dirt and to dust be returned 

So I guess John I'U just be cremated and burned. 



Eomping 



I'm tried tonight since my day of toil. 
Weary in bone and sore as a boil. 
Supper's all et and 1 'm just set down 
In a squeaky rocker to rest a roun' 
But 1 guess my restin' time ain't long 
For I hear a tiny, wee voiced song. 
An' ten little feet, comin' with a stomp 
A lookin' for daddy to have a romp. 



They tumble me outen my rockin' chair 
Down on the floor and grab my hair. 
They tickel my feet when my shoes are off 
An' tickle my nose so I'll sneeze and cough 
Though I'm tried tonight I would not give 
My little home and the place I Uve 
For aU the bunch of the rich man's joys 
If I couldn't romp with my girls and boys. 



^eben ^ourg to Hibe 



If you only had seven hours to live, 

And the doctor had told you so. 
How much of this time do you think you'd give 

To pleasure, or would you go 
Down on your knees emd try to square 

Tilings up twixt you smd God? 
Would you sf>end the hours in one long prayer 

'Ere they laid you 'neath the sod? 



^ 



Tis hard to think what you would do. 

If with death you were face to face. 
'Twould be hard to decide were it up to you; 

(If you feared it, 'twould be no disgrace). 
You can call around you those you love. 

And the wife who with you has trod 
The path of life and always strove 

To be ready to meet her God? 



Your time may be short or it may be long — 

Seven minutes or hours or days — 
Tho flushed with health, and young and strong 

To be on the safe side, it pays 
To always be ready to emswer the call 

Wherever it may come to you; 
And remember that just living isn't all 

That you're here upmn earth to do. 



^omtx pop 



We have a bright eyed little son. 
Of the three, he's the tricky one. 
Always going around a smiling 
Cheerfully the time beguiling 
By some tricks on other folks 
That get mad and cant stand jokes. 



Don't you think for just a minute 
That his "kid-ship" isn't in it, 
When there's mischief to be found 
He is always close around 
And in this floor there aint a crack. 
Where he's not drove a nail or tack. 



^' 



"Here you Homer get away 
From the baby now I say." 
Homer, don't pull Sister's hair. 
Cant you be still any where? 
Homer! don't you bite the baby, 
There, he's done it I guess, maybe. 



So it goes the livelong day 

(He's not mean — it's all in play) 

We aU love him just the same 

For all his premks he's not to blame 

So he's still our pride, our joy 

Our only Son — Our Homer boy. 



"^tile' 



If ye want to see a woman that is dressed right up ter date. 

With her socks, an' tights (?) sin' garters, ye c£in see her sure eis fate 

If you'll stroll down thru the city on most any busy street. 

She'll be there in all the glory of a woman indiscreet. 

Ye will see her on the sidewalk, buckin' ginst the balmy breeze, 

Ye cein see her in the parks a standin' underneath the trees, 

With her moskeeter nettin' dress, a clingin to her shanks. 

She's the limit in a bunch of these here wimmen fashion creinks. 



^ 



Now, I'm goin' ter be in f2ishion, em' I'm goin' ter have my fad, 
I don't keer what my grandad wore, er what my father had, 
I'm a goin' ter split my britches' legs, and open up my shirt, 
I'll sure be in the fetshion and I'll be ein old he flirt. 
There's as much sense in doin' that as' tis' fer some young 'hen' 
To think that wimam can do things that cem't be done by men. 
So I'll dress myself in fashion and I'll preuice aroun' in style 
Until it gits lots colder, then I'll cut it out a while. 




^xoti)tv of an #x 



I've bin wonderin' an' a thinkin' on the problems of the day, 

An' I'm wonderin' what's my standin' in the mess 

Jest because I am a worker, ein' draw a daily pay. 

Ain't a reason that I'm "nix" you will confess. 

If it wasn't fer us fellers things would stop a movin' on 

An' the universe would land upon the rocks. 

An' I heard an old gray geezer in a car that I was on 

Say that working men were brothers to the ox. 



The ox may be our brother an' like him we tote big loads 

An' in days gone by, like him we've all bin drove. 

But the days of drivin's over, when the drivers used the goads. 

And forced us o'er life's highways in a drove. 

Fer the oxe's little "brothers" are banded in a clan. 

An' we don't get near so many of the knocks 

As we used ter in the dark days when we were owned by mem 

Tho' we're only little brothers to the ox. 



jforgotten 



Once a lady old Eind gray. 

Sat dreaming alone on a chair one day, 

She knew her life was nearly spent, 

And before she died, 'tweis her intent 

To build a monument of stone 

That would not crumble 'till time was don 

Others have crumbled as time had passed 

But hers she'd build so it would last. 



Possessing great wealth, you understand. 

She built it of maissive granit and 

Bands of iron crossed its face 

And each was welded to fit its place. 

Her name was cut in letters bold 

And smaller scribbing on it told 

How she was kind unto the poor, 

A christian and a whole lot more. 



Well, when she died she surely thot 
That she would never be forgot, 
But things turned out, as you will see, 
Quite different than she thot 'twould be. 
She willed her coin, most ever cent. 
Unto a son who straight way went 
And blew it in (all he could draw) 
On wine aind women a-la-Thaw, 
Tis sad to think of her hard lot. 
Her money spent and her forgot. 



Mdon QCime 



Theres a sorter lazy feelin that's siftin thro my bone's 

An a weariness is stejJin over me 

Its a trouble just ter move about — my feet come up like stones 

I'm so sleepy that I cannot hardly see 

There's a stillness of the breezes an' a smoky atmosphere 

An' the medder lark is singin for a rain 

An' these South Dakota prairies are lookin brown and sear 

It's fall and melon time is here again. 



All the medder larks is bunchin of their selves upon the fence 

An a fixin up in getngs to fly away 

And the round-up Wctgon pullin in is lots of evidence 

That the snow-drifts aunt a lingerin far away 

Then I sorter have a softnin of the strings around my heart 

An my mind soon drifts away from any pain 

That may infest my body an straight way I'll up em start 

For the patch, for melon time is here ageun. 



When I'm old and growin feeble with the trouble of my years 

An my step thro life is slow emd nearly done 

Then when melon time come's round again t'will wet my eyes with tears 

For I know that I'll remember every one 

Of those times that's gone so long cigo back in the sun-lit past 

When this was a homestead on Dakota's plain. 

When we went out on the breakin amongst the vines that grew so fast 

For the fruit that melon time brought 'round again. 



Mfjen Bab Can't Morfe 
at trail 



Dig and worry, worry and dig, thru the winter, spring, summer aind fall 
With never a break in the time he makes — endless work spells it all; 
Elach Saturday night when he gets his check he pays on the grocery bill 
And he wonders where he'll get his share if he's suddenly sick and ill 
Who'll pay the doctor, who'll pay the nurse, who'll pay at the meter's call? 
Who'll stand the strain on muscle emd brain when dad can't work at all 



He works in the sun on a shingle roof when it glares like fire in hades; 
When the sweat drops race across his face; and the sun bums his shoulder 

blades? 
He eats cold grub for his noonday meal, smd smacks his lips on "tea," 
And tells a joke while he takes a smoke and is happy as he can be? 
But what will become of the bunch at home if the scaffold happens to fed]. 
And dad comes down on the dry hard ground and never can work at all? 



^ 



No need to worry, or fret ot fume o'er what has happened to Pa 

The employer's law will open its paw and find for the kidss and ma; 

And the charity man will nose around and care for every need, 

And the churches, too, will do their due, if they'll only accept their creed; 

So we'll worry no more o'er what may come — let the universe tumble and fall; 

They'll get some eats, and vaudeville seats, if dad can't work at all. 



(greefes ^U EistJt 



When war clouds started gathering o'er this land of Uncle Sam. 
And the bugles started blowing Eind the volunteers to jam. 
Why. the question kept recurring 'bout the "hyphenated" crew, 
And a lot of folks were wondering how they'd act and what they'd do. 
Well, there's some of them enlisting and a lot don't say a word 
'Bout their loyalty to Uncle Sam that sinybody's heard. 
But there's one bunch that I know of that will sure go out and fight - 
We don't need to ask the question, "Are the Greeks all right?" 



^' 



They've renounced their homes and country for this land of liberty. 

Where a man's a man 'mongst men. and where a man cem live and be; 

Where the stars and strips are waving up and o'er us in the sky. 

They have found the land of promise, and they'll fight — if need be, die. 

So while passing 'neath Old Glory, doff your hat in reverence due. 

For it stEmds for home and country, where were bom both me 2md you. 

But it kind of makes us fill up. causes tears to dim our sight. 

To see Greeks enlist in bunches, for they're all ALL RIGHT. 



Sometimes you'll see men careless, eind don't seem to understand 
Or think anything of what it cost to found this glorious land; 
Of the blood its cost, emd suffering, of the tragedies and death. 
But the man who's crossed the ocean just to draw a freeman's breath. 
Takes off his hat emd ponders on the goodness of his God 
When he placed him 'neath the stars smd strips on good old U. S. sod. 
So when that flag upon the courthouse shows its stars and strips to sight, 
We will shout with truth eind gladness, "Greeks are just all right." 



iWobin' Cime ^gain 



In the latter part of winter, when the snow drifts just begin ter 

Sorter simmer down to nothin by the softening of the breeze. 

When the cold winds quit their blowin' 'an there 'aint a bit more snowin' 

You cein mope out in the weather knowin' that you will not freeze. 



Tlien you start a lonesome huntin', into people's houses buntin'. 
An' a peekin' into bed rooms, an' clothes presses, just to prove 
That the house is nice and handy, 'an in all ways "fine and dandy," 
You're tickled most ter death, fer in the springtime you must move. 



When you see the "landlord comin' ", and you hear his feet a drummin' 
A tato upon the sidewalk as he comes along his way 
You can tell it by his action, for his walk is an attraction. 
That he's going ter give you notice fer to move some future day. 



Up comes carpets dusty — dirty; down comes pictures twenty, thirty; 
And each piece's in its place in every little niche and groove, 
The stove legs are all broken, and broken dishes, left in token 
Of the glorious springtime, when we all tear up and move. 



3n tJ)c ^J)abc of tl)e 0lb 
^iiantp Boor 



South Dakota's gentle breezes softly blowing 
O'er hill and vale the grass waves to and fro 
The farmer fixing for his springtime sowing. 
Reminds me of my youth long, long, ago. 
And yet within my mind there still does linger 
A memory of my home in Iowa. 
Some day I 11 heed the pointing of the finger. 
That points to home and friends so far away. 



In the shade of the old shanty door 

There's a skillet and pan on the floor. 

No voice have 1 heard. 

Not an out spoken word 

For a long lonesome month, maybe more. 

There's a beautiful Northwestern breeze. 

And my trousers are out at the knees. 

No more will I roam. 

From my Iowa home. 

For the shade of an old shanty door. 



^ 



Some day a moneyed man will come a roaming 

Far out across these prairies in the eve. 

You bet that rich duck won't hear any moaning: 

If he'll give me my price and let me leave 

I'll bless his soul and praise his name forever, 

I'll sing his praises now eind ever more 

If he'll give me the coin and let me sever 

Me from the shade of this old shanty door. 



Criggmus 



a manger long side or ! 
len sum vk-ise ole geezer 



hundred years ago a babe was bom. tbey say, 
ome oxen, an that weis where he lay 



give "im a lot of things, 



An right thare they started somethin, thats a burden now, by jings; 

It dont make no sorter difference how skimpin poor I be, 

I've just got to go buy sumpthin, an give it away, an gee 

It seems some times like I'd orter go buy suftipthin' extra to eat, 

Stid of livin on 'taters and flapjacks eind coffee 'thout any meat. 



^ 



1 like to git up Crissmus momin, an see the kids wavin their paws 

Over sumpthin they foun in their stockin, that was put in by "Santy Claws." 

An as each thing comes out of the stockin, an is put in pile on the floor 

I frown an seem fer to study 'bout where I seen them things afore. 

It seems good to know "Santy" brought em — that they didn't come outen 

the mail 
To know he weis guided with love's sight — knew each heart's desire th'out 

fail; 
So 1 think it would be a lot nicer if all of us Maws and Paws 
Would cut out aH the parcel post doins, and jest be our own "Sants Claws.' 



Jfall 



You can talk about the springtime when the grass is bustin' thru. 
You can talk about the summer, when it's hot and dusty too. 
An' about the pure white snow that sifts so soft and gently down. 
And covers up the dirty spots the country all aroun' — 
But there's a time that suits me exactly to a tee. 
It's the last end of September — Injun summer, hully .gee! 
How the nights are fine for sleepin with a little cover on. 
When the cobwebs are a-floatin, an' a frosty dew is on. 



Lx>ng about now in the momin'. jest afore the sxui's aglow. 
You can heeir the eeirs a bangin. an' the husker holler "whoa!" 
You C2in hear the rooster crowin'. hear it echo 'ginst the hill. 
You can heeir the worl' start movin' ef you'll stan' and listen still. 
Then just as oV man Sun comes up and glints across the fiel'. 
There's a miUion tiny little sparks flash back Uke polished steel. 
From the grass blades in the medder an the tossels on the com. 
From the cobwebs that's a floatin' an the frosty dew that's on. 



^agt anb present 



Let all men turn and look 

Far back across the years that passed away 

When Eastern man and his Eastern Home foresook 

And traveled on his far. far western way. 

Far over hill's and vale's he came 

Forded the stream's and crossed the sinking slough 

Sick unto death, and from travel sore and lame 

He blazed the way for home's for me and you. 



^ 



Coming still on. 

Far, far beyond the path's the white man trod 

Each morning dawn 

Revealed new beauties on this prairie sod 

Years rolled round 

The cattle king's held undisputed sway. 

This prairie ground 

Was, is forever and for aye. 



^' 



Let all men look again. 

Farm house dot the prairie far and near 

And fences make each country road a lane 

And of the future no man has a fear 

See then the towns 

That spring like mushrooms in the prairie grass. 

The prairie dog vacates with leaps and bounds 

As on their way the iron horses pass. 



mtti ittornins #one 



Life's morning dawns, 
And the sun of life comes brightly into view 

Youth lightly fawns — 
The flowers he plucks all covered o"er with dew 

And o'er life's hills and dales 
His gaze may wander bright and clear and yet 

He cannot see wherein his life he fails 
Until life's sun is set. 



^ 



Life's morning gone. 
He stands all gray, his eyesight growing dim. 

His life is done. 
And naught is left of all his life to him. 

But passing down 
Along the shaded side of life, he fain would be 

Back to youth again, his wild oats still unsown 
Instead of nearing death's eternity. 



Mv iWarion 



Oh, Marrion, thou summer girl. 

Oh, Marrion, My Marrion, 

With eyes aglow and hair a-curl. 

Oh, Marrion, My Marrion; 

Thy fashions chang'd when summer came. 

1 tho't I'd love you just the same. 

But now I don't and you're to blame. 

Oh, Marrion. My Marrion. 



^ 



Your waist has shrunk, your feet have grown. 

Oh, Marrion, My Marrion; 

Your dress is thin — Oh, God, I moan, 

Oh, Marrion. My Marrion; 

Your dress is tight like husk on corn, 

The better so 'twill show your form. 

Dear girl you sure do look forlorn. 

Oh. Marrion. My Marrion. 



As fashins change and seasons go. 

Oh. Marrion. My Marrion; 

Please make your dresses large below. 

Oh. Marrion. My Marrion; 

You'll look some shorter on the street. 

You'll look more girl and less of feet, 

Dear girl twill make my life complete. 

Oh, Marrion, My Marrion. 

— (With apologies to "Maryland. My Maryland).' 



Jfattetr "CaUs" 



I sometimes when I've naught to do stand on a corner 'gainst a post. 

An watch the ladies passing by an sometimes think a gentle roast. 

'Bout all those fatted "calfs" encased in tops so trim an high. 

It almost breaks my brain in "halfs" to see such lovely things so nigh. 

The fulsome ones have only on. a covering of "peek-o-hose" 

While bony ones are covered up with skirts a-purpose I suppose 

But if they knew that those high shoes, an shorter skirts cause manyl,laughs 

I'm sure they'd put en something that, would cover up those fatted "calfs." 



T'was only just a while ago, they dressed so tight they couldn't, talk 

And now they are so wide and short, a man can almost (?) see 'em walk. 

An on a few the fat is all located on the outer side 

That sorter gives a bow-ed look that high laced tops can never hide. 

A feller's head ul whirl as bad as when he drank a quart of booze. 

If he'l just gaze fer half an hour, at them short skirts an high-top shoes, 

But if you girls knew how us men, nudge one another up an laugh 

I'll bet you'd drop those short skirts down, an cover up that fatted "calfs.' 



(Bib Mavi 



Just a settin an thinkin' alone tonight of a forty-odd-year past 

Of the way I've spent those years of mine — some slow, some mighty fast, 

An I wonder if the average man — I mean the mem that toils — 

Would have to work after all these years if he'd saved some of the spoils? 

Or would some man that was sharper than he have taken his little "dough" 

An left him to work just the same as me, who has always just let it go? 



^ 



Some times I think of the long gone days when the coin came easy to m« 

Young blood was coursing through my veins an I spent it, oh, so free. 

An 1 now can think of those rollickin' times, as a babe sits in my lap 

An the others see me smile an say, "I wonder what's the matter with Pap? 

] chide my boy for things he does in his ornery mischief ways. 

Then remember that I done it, too, in those good old boyhood days. 



1 remember how we used to ring cowbells out in the corn 

An git the farmer out at night, sometimes at early morn; 

An how when that same farmer cussed an "wondered where they ■ 

We only held the clappers, an sniggered, double bent ; 

Of course I never think our k)ud — just think an sort of grin; 

I dassent tell the kiddies for that would be a sin. 



Bo iou tirtmik 



As you sit at eve in your home sweet home, where the fire glows red and bright, 

And the cold winds blow their burden of snow so swift through the chilly night. 

Do you take a thought of the ones outside in the icy blast and snow. 

Who are not blessed with a place to rest — no home or a place to go? 

Do you think of the mem who in summer days draws a wage scale rather small? 

Can you see his way in winter's day, when he can't get work at all? 



His way leads to a cheerless home, after each day's fruitless search 
For work to do for a dollar or two to keep him out of the lurch; 
And the merchjmt has closed his credit down, and he hasn't a cent to pay. 
And babies cry, cein you wonder why the laborers seldom pray? 
It's hard to say "God's will be done" when it's cold emd the coal is gone. 
It's hard to be brave when wee stomachs crave a meal at early dawn. 
But the minister said "Thank God for life — that you've still a soul to save," 
Though you amd your brood are famished for food, and are near to a hungry 
grave. 



^ 



In this day of the world if you ask for bread, you're likely to get a stone. 
If you ask for meat, or a bite to eat, you'll perhaps get a well gnawed bone; 
And if Christ should happen to come on earth emd ask for a cup that cheers 
'Ere he'd time to think they'd pass him a drink of one of the various beers — 
For the world is a mob of grasping men, with no thanks for what you give. 
But take it and say. "Some time I'll pay." but forget that you ever live. 



trije Cat an' 3Jts Cail 



Did you ever see a kitten-cat a-chasin' of 'is tail, 

In a little bit a circle no bigger than a pail. 

An how when he had caught it, an rumpled up the fur 

Have you seen its satisfaction in settin still to purr? 

Well, they's people like the kitten, that cheise things jest for fun, 

An after they have caught 'em, their work in life seems done. 

An if you push 'em out your way, you'll hear 'em cry an wail. 

For they feel exactly like the little cat that chased its tail. 



^ 



They'll do a little somethin' that they think is "minty fine," 
An then they'll purr about it to the others down the line, 
'Stid of just a keepin' goin — doin' other things as good — 
They set an purr about it, hard as any kitten could. 
They move about most all the time (a-lookin' for more fun). 
If the eats just keep a comin they're a happy mother's son — 
But when the resil test comes in life they're almos' sure to fail. 
Then cdl that's left to do is spin aroun' an chase their tail. 



Clottesi anb tfie Mm 



Sometimes all confidence is wrought 
By oily speech from well dressed folks. 
Sometimes the soberest man will crack 
The best of all the latest jokes; 
But if you wish to pick a friend. 
Don't judge him by a single stare. 
But judge him by his acts in life — 
Not by the clothes that he may wear. 

'^ 

I 've seen men slap men on the back 
An' holler, "Ole man, how-ge-do;" 
You'd think him sure a friend of yours — 
Do almost anyhting for you, 
But do not trust him over-far. 
He'll sometimes "trim" you if he can 
An' then your feelins gits a jar — 
You've found the clothes don't make the i 



I've seen a man in hickory shirt 
An' rsigged trousers tied with strings. 
His face perhaps is smeared with dirt. 
An' shoes out at the toes, by jings. 
If he's your friend, half his is yours; 
He'd help you amy way he cem. 
His troubles for you he endures. 
Clothes need not change or make the man. 

So as we travel o'er the road 

An' meet all kinds of men enroute. 

The rich, the poor, the high an' low. 

You seek, some was to find them out. 

But do not judge them by their looks 

(You very seldom ever can) 

Some may be honest, others crooks. 

The clothes will change — not make the man. 



ilnnifaersiarp 



Well, Ma, here's you an I alone, once more in home, sweet home. 

Just like we was two score an ten long years ago tonight. 

An as we sit an talk, an visit in the gloam 

We see things happening in the long ago, both wrong an right. 1 1 

We started out together, you an I, down life's pathway. 

We've had a-many a hard pull o'er the hills, 1 1 

Each one has pulled a share from day to day. 

O'er the rough road and "long by shaded rills. 



When times were hard we stretched to make ends meet, an when 

We failed, we filled the vacancy with love. 

Until next pull the ends would lap, an then 

We thanked the Lord for blessings from above. 

No doubt we've had our little "tilts," tho I've forgot 

The casue, for when the sun came after storm 

We found the happiness for which we've ever sought 

An once again our hearts with love were warm. 



We're almost at the end, dear heart, of our long road- 
The end's not far, for we're most down the slope; 
Soon comes the time when we'll lay off our load. 
An lay these weary bodies down with hope. 
Our children's children gathered here this eve 
An brought us presents all made up of gold 
To show us how the strands of love can weave 
A meash of light around us when we're old. 



^a toitf) t\)t (grippe 



Tonight when Pa came home from work an' throwed 's overshoes - 
Didn't care jest whur he throwed em — he didn't pick er choose 
A place fer hangin' up 'is cap — jest throwed ut on the floor, 
'Nen took a tantrum sneezin' 'at made us laugh an' roar. 
An 'nen he tried to blow 'is nose an' made a awful squawk. 
An' when we laughed he jest got mad an' tried to jaw an' talk. 
But all 'at we could unnerstan' was "tearin' loose" an' "whip," 
An" 'at he had a awful "code" an" somethin' 'bout the grippe. 



^ 



The worter runs out of 'is eyes an' down longside 'is nose. 
An' that is raw all 'roun the holes from wipin', 1 suppose. 
He says 'is head akes awful — jest like it almost bust. 
An' says fer us kids to be still er else we'd 'sure be cussed.'" 
'Is bones is jest a ronchin 'roun' inside 'is legs, he groems. 
An chills a-chasin down 'is back, an' shivers — "Uh!" he moans. 
He's drinkin' down hot lemonade (?) at a short ten minute clip. 
To try to stop the action of "that confounded grippe." 



I gess Pa feels jest awful, 'is head is plugged up tight. 

He can't blow smoke out through 'is nose — tabaccer don't tast right; 

An' when he starts to sleep at night he dreams some awful stunts. 

An' he has fell plum out of bed, a lot a times more 'n once. 

I gess my Pa is awful sick — he says 'is head's a-whirl; 

Ma's lookin' kind-a sour 'cause he dreamed about some girl. 

Dock told Ma not to worry an' give 'er a quiet tip. 

That nothin' else was ailin' Pa but influenza — Grippe. 



^omt hv tfje Eoab 



Out from the town there's a house by the road 

Where the auto's go whizzing by; 

Where the rag weeds grow and young folks go 

Unbeknown to you or I. 
Where the beer caps tinkle on the floor 

By the side of rustic chairs. 
The taxis go both to and for 

As they take and get their fares. 
And the maids as they speed along the way 

To this house of shaded light, 
Cannot wonder why their parents cry 

"Oh where is my girl tonight?" 



Oh where is my wandering girl tonight? 

Comes from many a mother's lips. 
And her heart may ache as she see her take 

These evening motor trips; 
Then consoles herself by saying, 

"She's young and let her play" 
And allows her to glide on the downward slide 

To the house beside the way. 



Where the music is sweet to the well tuned ear 

And her feet keeps time to its strain ; 
Down the gentle slope of drink and dope 

She will travel again — again. 
And now you mothers how can you ask 

In the glare of your Christian light, 
(When you let her go by the path's below) 

Oh where is my girl tonight? 



^|)op ^tiiht tfie Eoab 



I pEissed down the road in a country lane with trees that shaded the way. 
And I looked at the homes of the farmer folk all built in the latest way 
'Till I came to a place all grown to weeds that grew midst old refuse. 
Of wagons and buggy beds and such, and I stopped to look and muse. 
The roof had sagged — near tumbled in, and the doors were gone away. 
And a dim old sign was still in place since the long forgotten day. 
When 'twas nailed up high in the gables' peak, by the smithy some proud day. 
And the sign read "Black Smith Shop" to those who cheinced to pass that way 



I could shut my eyes and see the blows as the smithy forged out the steel. 
While perhaps outside stood an old ox team while he mended a broken whee| 
And a neighbor sat on the cooling tub, or "pumped" while the bellows roared 
Or perhaps was "helping 'im out a bit" as he bolted plow lay to board. 
I thought of the pull in the early day, of the smithy's downcast eye. 
As without a cent he stood in the door as the teams moved slowly by. 
With perhaps the wife down sick at home, that increased his heavy load, 
I thought of these as I scanned the wreck, of the shop beside the road. 



It paid to stick to the homestead home through all those years of toil. 
And after awhile close the old smith shop to be tiller of the soil. 
With the old wife standing by his side, their excellent home near by, 
I asked why let the old shop stand — and tears bedimmed his eye. 
I let it stand becuase it stood twixt me and starvation's bar. 
And when 'twas built work came to me in It from near and far. 
And I see in it an old, old friend that helped me carry my load 
Away out here in the wilderness — that old shop beside the road. 



^ince 5 itnep Came to tKoton 



Once a man named S. C. Traction was a loiterin roun one day 
An he seen the people walkin up an down an every way. 
An he jest conceived a scheme to build his self a street car road 
In the center of the streets an haul the people by the load. 
Say he, "111 git the burg to give exclusive right o' way 
Then I won't have competition that'l take away my pay 
An I'll build it in the center so there's no room on the side 
Fer another one to build on — there I always will abide." 



^ 



So he kept 's price a nickle an he got both rich sm fat. 

Some cussed from hangin on the straps — he didn't care fer that, 

The seats would all be filled three deep, the aisles be in a jamb: 

He simply took their money an he didn't give a — — . 

The people yelled em hollered, an wanted things made right; 

They'd plot an keep a thinkin an git mad enough to fight. 

Till a nervous "guy" named "Jitney" brought 'is little bus to town 

An started in the business of haulin people 'roun. 

Now this nervous Mr. Jitney drivin of 'is little bus 

Makes this man (old S. C. Traction) almost mad enough to cuss, 

Cause he's grabbin of ' is nickels an 'is competition's strong. 

An if he breaks yer bones he'l only pay you with a song. 

He keeps the people dodgin, jumpin this way. jumping that. 

If he gits a chance he'l knock you out from under your own hat. 

It does no good to cuss 'im viath your face an emgry frown. 

For he's on 'is way a block off. an speedin toward the town. 



^ 



There's union men that rides with Mr. Jitney so they say. 

But they'l ride with S. C. Traction if he'l give consent some day, 

To let his car men organize a union of their own; 

Then they'l kill off Mr. Jitney — kill 'im deader 'n any stone. 

They'd go in the trades an labor an say Jitney weis unfair — 

Say the Jitneys wasn't orgemized while they themselves were square. 

Then three thousand union men would quit a ridin Jitney's bus, 

An they'd run 'im out a town er else they'd starve the little cuss. 



Qtlje ^nocfeer 



I have bin in lots of places where the men was thick aroun 
Some vfas talkin o( the weather, some about the wars aroun. 
An as I was a listnin tu the conversations flow 
I heard a feller tellin how another was so slow 
Thet he actualy cuddent stop quick at whut ever he would do 
An his nockin made me fussy, an grouchy thru an thru, 
Fer I've foun the feller nockin on sum other fellers work 
Is the one that never frets hissef to do a thing but shirk. 



^ 



This worl is shorely hard anuff tu buck agin, I vum. 

An the best thet we can do a hull durn lot of troubles come, 

An it keeps a feller nippin right tu business jest tu earn 

A bite tu eat in summer an some fuel fer tu bum. 

When the win blow's cole in winter an the winders frosted o'er 

What's the use of makin troubles an a pilin up some more? 

An the man that keeps a 'nockin most alus is a shirk. 

An the biggest of his troubles is to keep some one from work. 



^ "Valentine 



Give me a pen an ink while I write. 

An a great sheet of paper to write it upon. 

An I'll make me a valentine verse een' tonight 

An finish it up if it teikes untill dawn. 

I'll tell my feelin's toward all of the worl'. 

An I'll say I feel joyous — jest elegent — fine 

I'll not indite this to any sweet girl. 

But jest wish mankind, all of this valentine. 

To those to whom I may have spoken in heat 

I wish they forget it as soon as they can. 

For I've naught but a wish to shake hands when we meet 

r> a wish for all good for my good fellow man. 

Let us pass up our grouches an smile once eigain. 

Let our faces bear only the glad, smiling sign. 

For a grouch on our chest is a hesirt-breaking pain, 

TTie cure for which is a "smile" Valentin. 



I'd unite if I could, all tongues, kindreds an creeds 

In one vast brotherhood of well wishing mankind. 

An I'd have if I could, nations vie in good deeds 

Each one to the other and friendship to bind. 

Let nations send greeting North, South, East and West, 

From U. S. Mississippi to Germamy's Rhine, 

An I'm sure if they would, the whole world would be blessed 

In this love giving season of St. Valentine. 



^tabott} ^ittnvti an tfje Mall 



When the lamf>s were cleaned an' lighted an" they shed their cheering glo 

On us settin' 'round the table in the evenings long ago. 

An' while some was playin' checkers, er maby fox an' geese. 

An' some a-poppin' com in skillet in a little bacon grease. 

Why, mother'd take the baby an' she'd make the shadows fall. 

As she wisted up 'er fingers to make pictures on the wall. 



I've seen 'er make the rabbit's head, I've seen 'er make the mule. 
While us kids was settin' watchin', trom an old splint chair or stool; 
TTie rabbit ud eat sumthin', an' the mule ud flop 'is ears. 
An' us young uns settin' laughin' till ou r eyes was full a tears. 
The times that mother made 'em most vfas winter er late fall. 
When the lamp was lit at evenin'. she'd make pictures on the wall. 



^ 



I've seen shows em' shows a-many. an' vaudivill of stunts: 
I've seen lots of things to laugh at, and I've laughed a-more'n once; 
I've seen movies — plent\- of 'em — but Ma's pictures come to me. 
An' the happy times she made us all comes back again — I see 
Those poor hard workin' fingers, most too stiff to bend atcJI, 
Jest bent anyhow to make us shadow pictures on the wall. 



Mother's still alive an" with us, an' her boys are grown an' gone. 
But it seems she's most as lively as she was in youth's bright dawn; 
For she gathers up my babies an' she holds em on her knee. 
An' she makes the shadow pictures like she used to do for me. 
I can see that mother — beckoning — an' it seems 1 hear her call 
Us to come in in the evenin' to see pictures on the wsill. 



Courtes^p bs. Jf atigue 



I've heard men talk of chivalry, of curtesy an such 

Toward wimmen on the street car, but it don't affect me much - 

When I'm a comin' from my work, all tuckered out an' worn, 

An so tired in the evenin that I wish I wasn't born. 

Unless — 

She's got a baby in 'er arms, er maby old and gray. 

Then ri sure give my seat to 'er most any time of day. 

An' tip my hat. and bow as low as the strap ul let me stoop. 

But as fer young 'uns standing up, I just don't keer a whoop. 



They's some old ladies that I've seen git on the car an' then 

They'd sort santer down the aisle an' look hard at the men, 

An' maby spot a little space, a cupple inches wide. 

They'd sit right down upon the space an wiggle down beside. 

Well, someone's got to move along — the line won't spring er bend, 

An' so the tired man below jest slides off at the end. 

Perhaps this dame is gittin 'home from playin' whist all day, 

Er maby from the theater to see the latest play. 



^ 



I've seen 'em pile their bundles up — an armful in the pile, 
While men who'd worked hard all day long, stood reelin' in the aisle. 
They're always togged up smartly — their hair in kinky rings, 
But they seldom move the bundles to give a seat, by jings! 
Now I don't claim all wimmen are like this, fer I'm told 
That some return the curtesy though they themselves are old. 
They orter go home early — at three or maby four. 
Instead of takin' up the seats while tired folks use the floor. 



^ome OrtJingg K't Htfee to ^ee 



I've wandered all about town — across an up an down, 

I'm always lookin every way — both sides an all aroun', 

An sometimes in my travels, I see some things that's queer. 

But I'll just mention of a few I'd like to see 'roun here. 

I'd like to see our City Dads git moves on 'em em' pave 

I'd like to see 'em good on acts an do less on the rave 

When some one like our Geo. C. C. — says pavin's dandy greift, 

I like to see 'em (like Beerend) just holler when they laughed. 



I'd like to see the parkin's fixed with posies 'long the curbs. 

An' other flowers (colors mixed) that bad kids ne'er disturbs, 

I'd like to see trees trimmed up nice and parkin's all mowed down, 

So't when some stranger looked about they say "a purty town." 

I'd like to see some wimmen put on some thicker close 

An' button up the collars of their waists, fer goodness knows 

It often makes a "lonesome" man step in a hole an' fall. 

When if 'twasn't fer the woman's dress he'd never fell atall. 



I'd like to see some swell "Calfeis" clean up more ways'n one, 
I'd like to see "burnt districts" cleared out once jest fer fun, 
I'd like to see the buildin's tore down that over overleans, 
An I 'd like to see the weather man stop f reezin of our beetns. 
I'd like to see a lot of things that make a town look fine, 
I'd like to see the folks trimmed up that sunk that ship in brine. 
But shucks! we'll never see the day when all this dream is true 
Our Commerical Club would make a kick if labor put it through. 



^a Ccleijratin' 



My Pa was tellin me 'bout Washington's boy George, 
Pa said 'at he went hungry at a place named Valley Forge. 
I don't jest 'zactly understeuid' what Pa was tellin' me 
'Bout how he fought an bled a lot so us folk could be free, 
He said 'twas right an" proper fer all us girls an' boys 
To shoot off firc-.rackers an' make a lot of noise. 
An so he went off down in town fer 'bout a dollar's worth 
Of junk to make a racket an cellebrate the Fourth. 



He wouldn't let us shoot 'em, fer fear we'd git blowed up. 

An' he lit one an throwed it, an' scared our neighbors' pup. 

An then he didn't throw one quick, 'at went off in 'is hand 

An Pa he said a lot of words 'at I don't understan'; 

He talked to that same man 1 heard our preacher talk about. 

An then he hopped on one foot an on tother all about 

An thought the bloomin' crackers was a nuisance, einyway. 

Said "every time the fourth rolled 'round the old boy was to pay.' 



Now if I'd a held that cracker, an" got my fingers burnt, 

Pa'd said 1 had it comin' — 'twas jest what 1 had earnt. 

But I didn't dare to smile out loud — jest sneaked aroun' the house 

An' done a lot of gigglin' as quite as a mouse. 

Pa seen me through the winder, and then he said to Maw, 

"That bloomin kid's a lafiin because I burnt ray paw." 

I don't think Pas and Mas should rant sm" storm around £in scold 

Jest cause us kids gits burnt a bit — we're young an' they are old. 



^laptn' €v\b 



I don't keer much fer 

Except perhaps once in a while the wife an' I'l start 

Out in the evenin' an' we'l go an ketch the service car. 

An' go to see movies of doins near an' far. 

But there's one thing I'd ruther do, that I cam do at home 



Instid of gaJavantin' roun' 



the evening's gloam. 



Is jest to have a little game (not play fer cent er drib) 



But take a social neighbor sm hi 



ave a game a 



crib. 



The time goes all to sudden an' some time's it seems to rae 

That it can't be more's ten o'clock when it raps out two or three 

An' wife she kicks on bein' woke — says I'm "dingy" on the game; 

But I don't care a finger snap, I like it jest the same. 

It's good fer your addition (the countin' as ye play), 

An' addin' quick is handy a dozen times a day. 

An' countin' "double runs" an "nibs" is fun, an' taint no fib 

To say its facinatin' to play a game a crib. 



^ 



I've fifteen two, an' fifteen four, an' nibs'I count me five, 

A double run of four's, fifteen as sure as I'm alive. 

An' then I peg out thirty-one fer four, er maby six. 

An' AIus kep a watchin' fer the other feller's tricks. 

Some folks'ull kick on playin' cards, but its cheaper'n play-in' pool. 

An' ye shore don't ned to gamble, er be a plaged fool; 

There's more harm in these "kissin' bees" where you put on a bib 

An' pull a mess a taffy than to play a game a crib. 



Ei^e ^oob Jiatureb Mm 



The man that works with a cheery smile 
As he labors through his day- 
Is helping himself to the time beguile 
As he steadily works away. 
While he who labors with long-drawn face 
Finds the day's end feir away. 
And in the end will find his place 
'Mongst those who are turned away. 

The man who gives you a smile and nod 

As you pass him at his toil 

Is the man who believes that there is a God — 

Hes the man that it's hard to roil. 

But the peimance is great that he hands to you 

For breaking good nature's laws, 

For he's liable to break your bones in two 

Once you get in his angry paws. 



Unlike the grouch that works beside 

With a frown and curled-up lip. 

His friends stick by him whate're betide. 

Through driven by goad and whip. 

And at the time his workday's done, 

When he goes to wife and child. 

If asked he will answer to every one: 

"I'm glad as I worked I smiled." 



So let's all smile as we do our task — 

'Twill smoothen the world's rough road, 

"Twill lighten the looks of the grouch's mask 

And eetsen the heavy load, 

'Twill cause men to speak in a kinder tone 

If by chcmce they speak to you. 

If you'll smile, yes even when alone — 

Keep smiling the whole day through. 



^^t SiiWn' ^tmt 



I've tried a lot of things to sorter satisfy my mind. 

An to get some entertainment — the best that I could find, 

I've tried 'em of the civil sort, jest only prEinks an fun. 

An I foun' that w€is the safest way fer almost any one. 

I've tried out swipin' mellons when we had a lot at home, 

Jest fer the fun of swipin' 'em in the evenin's dewey glaom. 

But the thing that's more excitin' — makes yer hair lift up yer cap, 

Is to bump ageiin a fussy guy an have a little scrap. 



^ 



We'll say the car is crowded an ye maby tramp 'is toes, 

"What's de matter wit yu, feller, ain't yer eyes 'long side yer nose?" 

An you answer "Sure! an' Mister, how'd ye like tu take a punch?" 

Then you see the lightnin flashin' after feelin' something crunch. 

Next mom yer eyes are blacker 'n a goats nose poke berry time. 

An a chunk a hide is gone from off yer chin as big's a dime; 

An when ye reach fer somethin' ye have to sorter hunt. 

An it all comes from a doin' what they call the fightin' stunt. 



They'sjots of fellers livin that never had a fight. 

An I guess it come's from doin' what they thought was just and right 

Of corse ye caint do nothin' if yer build up like a lath. 

But they's many's spoke the soft word, that turned away the wrath 

But it doesn't pay in this day to turn the other jaw 

To some hairy breasted roughneck, that's slapped ye with is paw, 

Ye'd better git a billy-goat an take is little bunt, 

Thein to stein up "nice an meinly" an do the lightin' stunt. 



i^arbenin' 



Pa gits tried workin' 'cause he's bin a-layin' roun' — 

Don't feel much Hke a-diggin' an' a-spadin' up the groun'. 

After supper evenin's when 'is teeths all cleaned an' picked. 

He talks so short eui' grouchy tin' we kids almost git licked. 

Ma she ain't so skerry of pa's sour looks an' froun, 

She goes out to the coal house an' the rake and spade comes down. 

Pa comes 'long a-grumblin' 'bout how he slaves at work; 

Ma just looks 'roun' grinnin'. an' calls my pa a shirk. 



Pa he rakes the garden an' trenches out the rows. 

May she drills the seeds in an' says 'at "goodness knows. 

If it wasn't jest for her they'd be no garden in." 

But when it 'gins a-comin' up the troubles sure begin. 

The weeds are thicker'n dog hair and the grass is bustin' through, 

An' when pa kicks, ma tells 'im he can eat as much as two. 

So they work away at gardenen an hoe'n up the groun'. 

An' when pa eats in winter, w'y he aiin't a crankin' roun'. 



®ije Clang 



In this day sind age when men are at strife, 
Of one 'gainst the other for living an life. 
TTiey don't always side with their kind of a man. 
An scrap it in bunches — a sort of a clan. 
The rich went together for reasons best known 
An could do a lot better than working a lone. 
So they went in together to work as one man. 
An now they are known as a powerful clan. 



They called us free men as they patted our back; 
TTiey took all the coin, an we just held the sack. 
An they laughed when they saw us patiently rave, 
An they plundered us yearly, slti naught could we save 
Until we in our turn took their scheme for our own. 
An reaped in the harvest from seed they had sown. 
For we're joining together each laboring man 
To work as a unit — a working mem's dein. 



^ 



But satrange to relate some men who must work 
Will not join with their fellows but persistently shirk 
TTieir share in the battle to right all their wrongs. 
An pull nots from the fire with fingers for tongs. 
Do you ask? "are they still holding only the sack?" 
No! not on your life; but stemd aways back 
Of the man who is fighting since the fighting began; 
An shares in the benefits won by the clan. 



Though we're fighting the battle's of working man-kind, 

(A man is no mem who will not lead the blind.) 

So we always will lead them and show them the way 

To live more like free-men than slaves and their pay 

Will still follow after each battle is won 

To the notch a bit higher though naught have they done. 

To forward the good of their own fellow man. 

Or helped win the battles that's fought by the clan. 



3n ti)c Colb 0iti WBiinttt Eime 



When the snow's on the ground, and frost all around. 

In the cold old winter time — 

When the cold in the night freezes everything tight. 

In the cold old winter time — 

Then cold bills come due (and between me and you 

Their amount seems almost a crime) — 

Though you pull in the leather, the ends won't come together 

In the cold old winter time. 

In the cold old winter time, in the cold old winter time. 
When chills are chasing down your back and racing up your spine. 
Then I look the coal man in the eye and he looks straight in mine. 
And tells me 'No more credit till the good old summer time." 



When the grocery bill runs away up until — 

In the cold old winter time — 

You are almost insane and your head's full of pain. 

In the cold old winter time — 

Then the cold northern breeze blows through holes to your knees, 

And a worn place uncovers your spine. 

Then you wish it was June, with posies in bloom. 

And the good old summer time. 

In the good old summer time, in the good old summer time. 

When the fire don't burn and all you earn pays bills along the line — 

When the merchants all will shake your hand, you'll find it a very good sign 

That your credit's good for coal or wood 

In the cold old winter time. 



#lb Retool Bapg 



Men write of the days of the long ago. of the days of youthful glee, 

And remember Ma's voice so soft and low, as Mothers' voices be. 

And forget the times when mothers' nerves were worn to a fragelly thread. 

Each got what he or she deserves — a cuff 'long side the head. 

I think of the days in the old brick school with Chapin eind Miss Chase, 

The Misses Coe and Parker, too, and Rachel Bernnan's face 

Oft comes to me as she used to be, as she stood close by the door 

When the doctor came to escort her home as he did in days of yore. 



^ 



I remember the days on the prairie hills at school house number two 

Mrs. Del Fosse taught us "mullet heads" most all of the grade plumb thro. 

How I used to crouch in the small buckboard, when the days of school was 

done. 
And Del Fosse drove and they spoke in French — to listen was lots of fun. 
I've fished for the chub, and the sucker, too, for the shiner and punkin seeds. 
In vacation days the summer through 1 waded in rushes and reeds; 
I snared the gopher with slip-knot string, and drove in the swimming pool. 
And 1 think how short were the summer days, and how long the days at school 



^ 



Each Frank or Rob had his sweetheart girl, who sat just'across the aisle. 

And when the teacher's back was turned, each got from the other a smile ■ 

And perhaps a note was passed across, of words just only three. 

But it made the whole world bright and he was happy as boy could be. 

We may think the schools of this our day too much of fudge and fuss. 

But our boys and girls will eJl look back and think the same as us 

But the memory of those old school days when they used the rod to rule 

Is a good old time to think about — those days of old time school. 



^l)anp=#rapf) on tlje Jf arm 



You can talk about your even's at the theaters an sich; 
You cein talk about the pleasures of big an idle rich. 
But theres nothin that'l help a feller to a hearty laugh 
Like the ceaseless, talk-a-hummin of a graffe-phonegraph. 
In the winter in the evenin's with the gass lamp all aglow; 
With a fire in the heater you fergit about the snow, 
An you start the thing a goin with a record on the shaf 
An you smoke your pipe an 'joy listenin to the phony-graf. 



^ 



You can listen to the quips an jokes Cal Stewart puts acros 

An you sure enjoy the singin of ole frien Renie Ross, 

An Harry Lauder puts across a Scotch one broat an flat 

A tellin of eatin breakfast in bed an all of that, — 

A lot of musty good coon jokes 'bout workin on a farm 

Jest sorter keeps a feller mind from thinkin any harm 

An the musick sorter sifts aroun you like a lot of chaff 

As you'r smokin in the evening, listenin to the phony-graff. 



Eiie ponel^eati Man 



You cem talk of the man with the high-brow dome, the man with brain by 

the pounds;} 
You can talk, an reason with him sometimes, but did you in your rounds, 
Ever meet the mein who has high-brow brains', and supposed to have reason 

withall? 
Who's head was hard as a knot on a log, that wouldn't talk sense at all? 
Sometimes the man with the hard bone-head has an office of high renoun. 
An don't jest care a tinkers cuss fer the people in 'is town; 
Perhaps its jest 'is nature, but I tell you jest the same 
If 'es high er low, er what 'e is, 'es a "bone head" jest the same. 



^ 



What is the use of being a "mule" when you've only two feet to show? 

What is the use of actln a fool, till people tell you to go 

To where ice sells fer four dollars a pound, jm the market is good at that; 

An why has a man got to be a "mouse" er a meeisly sneakin "rat?" 

Why can't he be a man among men, and live to a mem's ideals? 

An once on a while concede a point although perhaps he feels 

As though t'was agin 'is nature, an himseld is not to blame; 

It's again 'is nature to do it — he's a bone-head jest the same. 



^fjen Ma'i aCallin' '^om 



Sometimes my Ma just hustles 'roun — does all her house work up. 

An' washes up her dishes ain combs 'er hair all up. 

An' then puts on 'er Sunday close an wears 'er beads an things. 

An then she goes a visitin' in society, by jings. 

She'll call on Mrs. Parkins, an then on Mrs. Steel, 

An then on Mrs. Furgason (they got a autobile) 

She only stays a minit — just time to show 'er gown — 

Sometimes she only leaves 'er card when she's a callin "roun. 



When Ma gits home from callin' an visitin about 

She changes clothes an' sets aroun" (most always is give out) 

An then she starts a tellin' how folkses' houses look. 

How Mrs. Parkins' house was neat an tidy as a book. 

An' how Mrs. Furgason's was strewed with ragged dolls an' toys • 

How she had on a dirty dress, an was jawin' at her boys. 

It's sometimes entertainin' to see 'er scowl an' frown 

'Bout how she foun' folks houses when she weis callin' 'roun. 



^ 



Now Mrs. Parkins an Mrs. Steel could come to our house 
An find things just all jumbled up, an maby git a souse 
Of water throwed by some 'f us kids, at tother on the run, 
Not knowin' she was comin' nigh — just doin' it fer fim. 
An' she might maybe find the blocks just scattered on the floor, 
An if Ma said "Quit makin noise," we'd only make some more; 
Us kids aint better'n other kids (ner worse, 1 will be boun'). 
We're just like other kids they find when they're a callin' 'roun. 



Cdtlblioob 



I often think and dream of those days when a child. 
We played the games of childhood, euid we made 
Mud pies, and played at house-keep in the shade, 
Or else at childish mischief time beguiled. 
How spick and span — all clean we sallied out 
New worlds to conquer in the ways of fun, 
Searching for muddy pools where we could run 
And splash each other up with screech and shout. 



'^ 



And now 'tis strange that when our babies go 
Out in the mud where seems the softest place. 
Our patience breaks at muddy clothes and face. 
With brows afrown; but yet 'tis ever so. 
So if our tempers flame at things our babies do, 
They're always little sweethearts just the same. 
Their little minds don't see where they're to blame. 
Nor do we either — honest now, do you? 



iWotijer Hobe 



It will stand the test of years of toil, from the day of baby's birth, 

The knocks and blows of the world's turmoil — yes, e'en for a blow to earth. 

'Twill stand the test of proverty's strain, for the curse of a drunken son — 

She'll gather him in her arms again, and forgive each and every one. 

She may be in the right if she cursed the day when he came to her and the home. 

But she prays instead to be shown a way to make him love her alone. 

The world may scoff at the fallen boy — may smother him in a pall 

Of dark disgrace, but her love will buoy him up emd excuse it all. 



^ 



Her little all, e'en a crust of bread, is his to take and devour. 

The pillow beneath her old gray head he may take at the midnight hour. 

He may turn her out of her home, sweet home, toward the poor house on the 

hill. 
He may drive her out in the evening's gloam, but there's no reprisal bill. 
He can rob, and steal, and plunder at will, be enmeshed in the toils of the law. 
But mother will never censure nor will she lay in his way a straw. 
Though the whole world clap and shout for joy — put him back behind prison 

wall. 
She'll tell you he's still to her her boy, and her love will cover it all. 



$a at tiie ^^o\o 



Well, Ma, I'm back from the Auto show, where the horns was honkin' loud 

(An' I found it a dandy place tu go if ye wanta be in a crowd). 

An" I went tu the Autotorium where they held the doin's, an' 

How they hear each other fer tothers' shouts is more'n I understetn". 

1 went at night by the Motor Mart, an' I seen its lights aglow. 

An' I looked across tu the Auto Block, not more'n a short'stone throw; 

An' I seen the Davidson block lit up with lights strung plumb around' — 

It's the dandiest place to go to, Ma, if ye want tu git showed aroun*. 



^ 



An', Ma, I hit the Auto trail with its endless holler an' yelp — 

I mint uv got skinned on the autermobile, but 1 didn't lose my skelp. 

An' ye know there was more than aity kinds, an' three tu sell each kind; 

'Twas enough to drive a man insane, an' the glitter to make 'im blind. 

The show winders full uv tires, with ribbons strung forth an back. 

An' if ye go crossin' the street. Ma, ye'U git in an auto's track. 

So I went tu the movin' picters, an' bummed 'till the clock struck ten. 

An' I tell ye. Ma, when the year rolls 'round' I'm a-goin' back agen. 



Clje "f ericijo" Mm 



Oh, the Jericho man is a jolly lad — full of fun when with the bunch. 
If he has jiny troubles, or ever had, you'll not know it without a hunch. 
He carries the honors that come to him, with head held proudly high. 
And the road he travels is never dim, smd there's plenty of signboards by. 
He may meet on his travels another man, on his way to Jeruselem town. 
He will talk to him, and if he can, he'll get him to turn around. 
Then they'l travel together along the road where so many travelers go. 
And help each other to bear the load, on the way to Jericho. 



^ 



Oh, the Jericho man will hold his hand towards you opened wide. 

If you'll only join his little band, and travel by his side 

O'er the stony road by the mountain side, close by where the Jordan flows. 

He'll help in trouble that may betide, and point where the pine tree grows. 

If he finds a brother beside the way, with head bowed down in grief. 

He'll speak a word of sympathy and try to give relief. 

In short, you'll find him your brother man, wherever you may go. 

He'll help you any way he can, o'er the road to Jericho. 

He'll help you any way he can. o'er the road to Jericho. 



^ 



His aim in life, you'll always find, is to raise the human race. 

And with a chain to you he'll bind himself with smiling face; 

He'll care for his brother's widow, give a home to his orphaned one. 

And give a home to the aged, when their life is nearly done. 

His wife or sister by his side, they travel hand in hand. 

Be they weary, whether rich or poor, they'l always understand 

That there's always a place (perhaps an inn) where all — the high or low 

can stop to rest while on the trip from Jerusalem to Jericho. 



^aturbap i5isf)t 



I sometimes haf to wonder when I hear my Dad an Ma 
A talkin 'long 'bout Friday nite 'bout what Ma seiid she saw 
Down town in sum big winder filled chuck up full uv things, 
'Nen pa'd git kinda grouchy 'n say he "didn't care two dings " 
Fer all the plaged winders, er the stuff 'at they had in — 
Said the way some folks blowed money looked like to him a sin 
Ma'll say tomorrer's pay nite an guesses she'll come down 
'Bout half pass fore er five a-clock an him an hur look 'roun. 



^ 



Well, him em hur they look aroun an probly buy some shoes. 
An buy some kinda gingham 'at Ma sais she can use. 
An she alius gits sum stockins — most alius cupple pair, 
An buys a comb or hairpins fer fixin up 'er hair. 
An Pa 'ul buy some "ole" an just a little meat 
(Cause its all fired expencive, it don't tast good to eat), 
An 'nen they see the movies an git home at eight, about. 
Fa pays sum on the grocery, an his check is most give out. 



Matcf) goursielf #o 5ip 



I passed along on a crowded street in the thick of a hurrying throng; 

And I noticed the different ways they dressed, and the way they moved along. 

And I tried to read their natures from the (aces that I saw, 

And thought how great the number that would evade the law. 

And then a friend of mine came by and passed the glad hello, 

And I told him what I was doing as I walked along so slow. 

Then he told me with a twinkle in the comer of his eye 

To step aside a moment, and watch myself go by.j 



I did, and then I saw a man go wandering 'long his way 

Who smiled when ere he met a friend, and passed the time of day. 

He had no point objective, just lived an easy life 

And didn't seem to worry o'er his family or his wife. 

He really wasn't different from some I'd seen before. 

And I thought however angrj'. no one would think him sore. 

And I fixed his countenance in my mind — I'll tell the reason why, 

I may accidently meet him and I'll watch as he goes by. 



Clottesi anb tlie jtHan 



Sometimes all confidence is wrought 
By oily speech from well dressed folks. 
Sometimes the soberest man will crack 
The best of all the latest jokes; 
But if you wish to pick a friend, 
Don't judge him by a single stare. 
But judge him by his acts in life — 
Not by the clothes that he may wear. 

I've seen men slap men on the back 

An' holler. "Ole man, how-ge-do;" 

You'd think him sure a friend of yours — 

Do almost anyhting for you. 

But do not trust him over-far. 

He'll sometimes "trim" you if he can 

An' then your feelins gits a jar — 

You've found the clothes don't make the man. 

I 've seen a man in hickory shirt 
An' ragged trousers tied with strings. 
His face perhaps is smeared with dirt. 
An' shoes out at the toes, by jings. 
If he's your friend, half his is yours; 
He'd help you any way he can. 
His troubles for you he endures. 
Clothes need not change or make the man. 

So as we travel o'er the road 

An' meet all kinds of men enroute. 

The rich, the poor, the high an' low. 

You seek, some was to find them out. 

But do not judge them by their looks 

(You very seldom ever can) 

Some may be honest, others crooks. 

The clothes will change — not make the man. 



^nnibersiarp 



Well, Ma. here's you an I alone, once more in home, sweet home. 

Just like we was two score an ten long years ago tonight. 

An as we sit an talk, an visit in the gloam 

We see things happening in the long ago, both wrong an right. 1 1 

We started out together, you an I, down life's pathway. 

We've had a-many a hard pull o'er the hills, 1 1 

Elach one hjis pulled a share from day to day. 

O'er the rough road and 'long by shaded rills. 



When times were hard we stretched to make ends meet, an when 

We failed, we filled the vacancy with love. 

Until next pull the ends would lap, an then 

We thanked the Lord for blessings from above. 

No doubt we've had our little "tilts," tho I've forgot 

The casue, for when the sun came after storm 

We found the happiness for which we've ever sought 

An o: " again our hearts with love were warm. 



We're ailmost at the end, dear heart, of our long road- 
The end's not far, for we're most down the slope; 
Soon comes the time when we'll lay off our load. 
An lay these weary bodies down with hope. 
Our children's children gathered here this eve 
An brought us presents all made up of gold 
To show us how the strands of love can weave 
A meash of light around us when we're old. 



^a toitf) tbe (grippe 



Tonight when Pa came home from work an' throwed 's overshoes - 
Didn't care jest whur he throwed em — he didn't pick er choose 
A place fer hangin' up 'is cap — jest throwed ut on the floor, 
'Nan took a tantrum sneezin' 'at made us laugh an' roar. 
An 'nen he tried to blow "is nose an' made a awful squawk. 
An' when we laughed he jest got mad an' tried to jaw an' talk, 
But all 'at we could unnerstan' was "tearin' loose" an' "whip." 
An' 'at he had a awful "code" cui' somethin' 'bout the grippe. 



The worter runs out of 'is eyes an' down longside 'is nose. 
An' that is raw all 'roun the holes from wipin', I suppose. 
He says 'is head akes awful — jest like it almost bust. 
An' says fer us kids to be still er else we'd 'sure be cussed.'" 
'Is bones is jest a ronchin 'roun' inside 'is legs, he groans, 
An chills a-chasin down 'is back, an' shivers — "Uh!" he moans. 
He's drinkin' down hot lemonade (?) at a short ten minute clip. 
To try to stop the action of "that confounded grippe." 



^ 



I gess Pa feels jest awful, 'is head is plugged up tight, 

He can't blow smoke out through 'is nose — tabaccer don't last right; 

An' when he starts to sleep at night he dreams some awful stunts. 

An' he has fell plum out of bed, a lot a times more 'n once. 

I gess my Pa is awful sick — he says 'is head's a-whirl ; 

Ma's lookin' kind-a sour 'cause he dreamed about some girl. 

Dock told Ma not to worry an' give 'er a quiet tip. 

That nothin' else was ailin' Pa but influenza — Grippe. 



i^ouge bp ttje Eoab 



Out from the town there's a house by the road 

Where the auto's go whizzing by; 

Where the rag weeds grow jind young folks go 

Unbeknown to you or I. 
Where the beer caps tinkle on the floor 

By the side of rustic chairs. 
The taxis go both to and for 

As they taie and get their fares. 
And the maids as they speed along the way 

To this house of shaded light. 
Cannot wonder why their pteirents cry 

"Oh where is my girl tonight?" 



^ 



Oh where is my wemdering girl tonight? 

Comes from many a mother's lips. 
And her heart may ache as she see her take 

These evening motor trips; 
Then consoles herself by saying, 

"She's young and let her play' 
And allows her to glide on the downward slide 

To the house beside the way. 



^ 



Where the music is sweet to the well tuned < 

And her feet keeps time to its streiin; 
Down the gentle slope of drink and dope 

She will travel again — again. 
And now you mothers how can you ask 

In the glare of your Christian light, 
(When you let her go by the path's below) 

Oh where is my girl tonight? 



Jfatteb "Calffl' 



I sometimes when I've naught to do stand on a comer 'gainst a post. 

An watch the ladies pjissing by em sometimes think a gentle roast. 

'Bout all those fatted "calfs" enciised in tops so trim an high. 

It almost breeiks my brain in "halfs" to see such lovely things so nigh. 

The fulsome ones have only on, a covering of "peek-o-hose" 

U'Tiile bony ones are covered up with skirts a-purpose I suppose 

But if they knew that those high shoes, an shorter skirts cause msmy^laughs 

I'm sure they'd put en something that, would cover up those fatted "calfs." 



T'was only just a while ago, they dressed so tight they couldn't, talk 

And now they are so wide and short, a man can almost .? see 'em weJk. 

An on a few the fat is all located on the outer side 

That sorter gives a bow-ed look that high laced tops can never hide. 

A feller's head ul whirl as bad as when he drcink a queirt of booze. 

If he'l just gaze fer half an hour, at them short skirts an high-top shoes. 

But if you girls knew how us men, nudge one another up an laugh 

111 bet you'd drop those short skirts down, an cover up that fatted "calfs.' 



#Ib Mavi 



Just a settin an thinkin' alone tonight of a forty-odd-year past 

Of the way I've spent those years of mine — some slow, some mighty fast, 

An I wonder if the average man — I meem the man that toils — 

Would have to work after all these years if he'd saved some of the spoils? 

Or would some mein that was sharper than he have taken his little "dough" 

An left him to work just the same as me, who has always just let it go? 



Some times I think of the long gone days when the coin came easy to me; 

Young blood was coursing through my veins an I spent it, oh, so free. 

An I now can think of those roUickin' times, as a babe sits in my lap 

An the others see me smile an say, "I wonder what's the matter with Pap?" 

I chide my boy for things he does in his ornery mischief ways. 

Then remember that I done it, too, in those good old boyhood days. 



I remember how we used to ring cowbells out in the corn 

An git the farmer out at night, sometimes at early mom; 

An how when that same farmer cussed an "wondered where they went. 

We only held the clappers, an sniggered, double bent; 

Of course I never think our loud — just think an sort of grin; 

I dcissent tell the kiddies for that would be a sin. 



Bo iou QCfjinfe 



As you sit at eve in your home sweet home, where the fire glows red and bright. 

And the cold winds blow their burden of snow so swift through the chilly night. 

Do you take a thought of the ones outside in the icy blast and snow. 

Who are not blessed with a place to rest — no home or a place to go? 

Do you think of the man who in summer days draws a wage scale rather smaJlV 

Can you see his way in winter's day, when he can't get work at all? 



His way leads to a cheetless home, after each day's fruitless search 
For work to do for a dollar or two to keep him out of the lurch; 
And the merchant has closed his credit down, and he hasn't a cent to pay. 
And babies cry, can you wonder why the laborers seldom pray? 
It's hard to say "God's will be done" when it's cold and the coal is gone. 
It's hard to be brave when wee stomachs crave a meal at early dawn. 
But the minister saiid "Theuik God for life — that you've still a soul to save," 
Though you and your brood are famished for food, and are near to a hungry 
grave. 



^ 



In this day of the world if you ask for bread, you're likely to get a stone. 
If you ask for meat, or a bite to eat, you'll perhaps get a well gnawed bone; 
And if Christ should happen to come on earth emd ask for a cup that cheers 
'Ere he'd time to think they'd pass him a drink of one of the various beers — 
For the world is a mob of grasping men, with no thanks for what you give. 
But take it smd say, "Some time I'll pay," but forget that you ever live. 



tCfje Cat an' 3Jtg ®art 



Did you ever see a kitten-cat a-chasin' of 'is tail. 

In a little bit a circle no bigger than a pail. 

An how when he had caught it, zin rumpled up the fur 

Have you seen its satisfaction in settin still to purr? 

Well, they's people like the kitten, that chase things jest for fun. 

An after they have caught 'em, their work in life seems done. 

An if you push 'em out your way, you'll hear 'em cry an wail. 

For they feel exactly like the little cat that chased its tail. 



They'll do a little somethin' that they think is "minty fine," 
An then they'll purr about it to the others down the line, 
'Stid of just a keepin' goin — doin' other things as good — 
They set an purr about it, hard as any kitten could. 
They move about most all the time (a-lookin' for more fun). 
If the eats just keep a comin they're a happy mother's son — 
But when the real test comes in life they're almos' sure to fail, 
Then all that's left to do is spin aroun' an chase their tail. 



^fiabobi $tctureg on tfie Mall 



When the lamps were cleaned an' lighted an' they shed their cheering glo 

On us settin' 'round the table in the evenings long ago. 

An' while some was playin' checkers, er maby fox an' geese. 

An' some a-poppin' com in skillet in a little bacon grease. 

Why, mother'd take the baby an' she'd make the shadows fall. 

As she wisted up 'er fingers to make pictures on the wall. 



I've seen 'er make the rabbit's head, I've seen 'er make the mule. 
While us kids was settin' watchin", from an old splint chair or stool; 
The rabbit ud eat sumthin', an' the mule ud flop 'is ears. 
An' us young uns settin' laughin' till ou r eyes was full a tears. 
The times that mother made 'em'most was winter er late fall, ^ 
When the lamp was lit at evenin', she'd make pictures on the wall. 



^ 



I've seen shows an' shows a-many. an' vaudivill of stunts; 
I've seen lots of things to laugh at, and I've laughed a-more'n once: 
I've seen movies — plenty of 'em — but Ma's pictures come to me. 
An' the happy times she made us all comes back again — I see 
Those poor hard workin' fingers, most too stiff to bend atall. 
Jest bent anyhow to make us shadow pictures on the wall. 



^ 



Mother's still alive an' with us, an' her boys are grown ein' gone, 
But it seems she's most as lively as she was in youth's bright dawn; 
For she gathers up my babies an' she holds 'em on her knee. 
An' she makes the shadow pictures like she used to do for me. 
I can see that mother — beckoning — an' it seems I hear her call 
Us to come in in the evenin' to see pictures on the wall. 



Courtegp bg, Jf atigue 



I've heard men talk of chivalry, of curtesy an such 

Toward wimmen on the street car, but it don't affect me much - 

When I'm a comin' from my work, all tuckered out an worn, 

An so tired in the evenin that I wish I wasn't born. 

Unless — 

She's got a baby in 'er arms, er maby old and gray. 

Then ri sure give my seat to 'er most any time of day, 

An' tip my hat, and bow as low as the strap ul let me stoop. 

But as fer young 'uns st£inding up, I just don't keer a whoop. 



^ 



They's some old ladies that I've seen git on the car an' then 
They'd sort santer down the aisle an" look hard at the men. 
An' maby spot a little space, a cupple inches wide. 
They'd sit right down upon the space an wiggle down beside. 
Well, someone's got to move along — the line won't spring er bend. 
An' so the tired man below jest shdes off at the end. 
Perhaps this dame is gittin 'home from playin' whist all day, 
Elr maby from the theater to see the latest play. 



^ 



I've seen 'em pile their bundles up — an armful in the pile. 
While men who'd worked hard all day long, stood reelin' in the aisle. 
They're always togged up smartly — their hair in kinky rings. 
But they seldom move the bundles to give a seat, by jings! 
Now I don't claim all wimmen are like this, fer I'm told 
That some return the curtesy though they themselves are old. 
They orter go home eeirly — at three or maby four. 
Instead of takin' up the seats while tired folks use the floor. 



Lottie €\)mi Wii likt to ^ee 



I've wandered all about town — across an up an down, 

I'm cJways lookin every way — both sides an £ill airoun'. 

An sometimes in my travels, I see some things that's queer. 

But I'll just mention of a few I'd like to see 'roun here. 

I'd like to see our City Dads git moves on 'em an' pave 

I'd like to see 'em good on acts am do less on the rave 

When some one like our Geo. C. C. — says pavin's dandy graft. 

I like to see 'em (like Beerend) just holler when they laughed. 



^ 



I'd hke to see the parkin's fixed with posies 'long the curbs. 

An' other flowers (colors mixed) that bad kids ne'er disturbs, 

I'd like to see trees trimmed up nice £ind jjarkin's «dl mowed down, 

So't when some stramger looked about they say "a purty town." 

I'd like to see some wimmen put on some thicker close 

An' button up the collars of their weiists, fer goodness knows 

It often meikes a "lonesome" man step in a hole an' fall. 

When if 'twaisn't fer the woman's dress he'd never fell atall. 



^ 



I'd like to see some swell "Calfas" clean up more ways'n one, 
I'd like to see "burnt districts" cleared out once jest fer fun, 
I'd like to see the buildin's tore down that over overle«ins. 
An I'd like to see the weather man stop freezin of our beans. 
I'd like to see a lot of things that make a town look fine, 
I'd like to see the folks trimmed up that sunk that ship in brine. 
But shucks! we'll never see the day when all this dream is true 
Our Commerical Club would make a kick if labor put it through. 



^a Ccleftratin' 



My Pa was tellin me 'bout Washington's boy George, 
Pa said 'at he went hungrj' at a place neaned Valley Forge. 
I don't jest 'zactly understand' what Pa was tellin' me 
'Bout how he fought cin bled a lot so us folk could be free. 
He said 'twas right an' proper fer all us girls an' boys 
To shoot off firc-.rackers an' make a lot of noise. 
An so he went off down in town fer 'bout a dollar's worth 
Of junk to make a racket an cellebrate the Fourth. 



^ 



He wouldn't let us shoot "em, fer fear we'd git blowed up, 

An' he lit one an throwed it, an' scared our neighbors' pup. 

An then he didn't throw one quick, 'at went off in 'is hand 

An Pa he said a lot of words 'at 1 don't understan'; 

He talked to that same man I heeird our preacher talk about. 

An then he hopped on one foot an on tother all about 

An thought the bloomin' crackers was a nuisance, anyway, 

Said "every time the fourth rolled 'round the old boy Wcis to pay.' 



^ 



Now if I'd a held that cracker, an got my fingers burnt, 

Pa'd said 1 had it comin' — 'twas jest what I had eamt. 

But I didn't dare to smile out loud — jest sneaked aroun' the house 

An' done a lot of gigglin' as quite as a mouse. 

Pa seen me through the winder, eind then he said to Maw, 

"That bloomin kid's a laflin because I burnt my paw." 

I don't think Pas and Mas should rant an' storm around an scold 

Jest cause us kids gits burnt a bit — we're young an' they are old. 



^Jjop Pesitre tfje l^oab 



I p)assed down the road in a country lane with trees that shaded the way. 
And I looked at the homes of the farmer folk all built in the latest way 
'Till I came to a place all grown to weeds that grew midst old refuse, 
Of wagons and buggy beds and such, and 1 stopped to look and muse. 
The roof had sagged — near tumbled in. and the doors were gone away. 
And a dim old sign was still in place since the long forgotten day. 
When 'twas nailed up high in the gables' peak, by the smithy some proud day. 
And the sign read "Black Smith Shop" to those who chanced to pass that way* 



1 could shut my eyes and see the blo.vs as the smithy forged out the steel. 
While perhaps outside stood an old ox team while he mended a broken whee| 
And a neighbor sat on the cooling tub, or "pumped" while the bellows roared 
Or jjerhaps was "helping 'im out a bit" as he bolted plow lay to board. 
1 thought of the pull in the early day. of the smithy's downcast eye, 
As without a cent he stood in the door as the teams moved slowly by. 
With perhaps the wife down sick at home, that increased his heavy load, 
I thought of these as I scanned the wreck, of the shop beside the road. 



^< 



It paid to stick to the homestead home through all those years of toil. 
And after awhile close the old smith shop to be tiller of the soil. 
With the old wife stcuiding by his side, their excellent home near by, 
I asked why let the old shop stand — and teairs bedimmed his eye. 
I let it stand becuase it stood twixt me and starvation's beir. 
And when 'twas built work came to me in It from near and far. 
And I see in it an old, old friend that helped me carry my load 
Away out here in the wilderness — that old shop beside the road. 



^jnce Jitnep Came to QToton 



Once a man named S. C. Traction wcis a loiterin roun one day 
An he seen the people walkin up an down an every way. 
An he jest conceived a scheme to build his self a street car road 
In the center of the streets an haul the people by the load. 
Say he. "Ill git the burg to give exclusive right o' way 
Then I won't have competition that'l tcike away my pay 
An I'll build it in the center so there's no room on the side 
Fer another one to build on — there 1 always will abide." 



^ 



So he kept 's price a nickle an he got both rich an fat, 

Some cussed from hangin on the straps — he didn't care fer that, 

Tlie seats would all be filled three deep, the aisles be in a jamb; 

He simply took their money an he didn't give a . 

TTie people yelled an hollered, an wanted things made right; 
They'd plot an keep a thinkin an git mad enough to fight. 
Till a nervous "guy" named "Jitney" brought 'is little bus to town 
An started in the business of haulin people 'roun. 



^ 



Now this nervous Mr. Jitney drivin of 'is little bus 

Makes this man .old S. C. Traction* edmost mad enough to cuss. 

Cause he's grabbin of ' is nickels ein 'is competition's strong. 

An if he breaks yer bones he'l only jjay you with a song. 

He keeps the people dodgin. jumpin this way. jumping that. 

If he gits a chance he'l knock you out from under your own hat. 

It does no good to cuss 'im with your face an angry frown. 

For he's on 'is way a block off, an speedin toward the town. 



There's union men that rides with Mr. Jitney so they say. 

But they'l ride with S. C. Traction if he'l give consent some day. 

To let his car men orgeinize a union of their own; 

Tten they'l kill off Mr. Jitney — kill 'im deader 'n any stone. 

They'd go in the trades an labor an say Jitney was unfair — 

Say the Jitneys wasn't organized while they themselves were square. 

Then three thousand union men would quit a ridin Jitney's bus. 

An they'd run 'im out a town er else they'd stauve the little cuss. 



^i)t i^nocfeer 



I have bin in lots of places where the men was thick aroun 
Some was talkin of the weather, some about the weirs aroun. 
An as I was a listnin tu the conversations flow 
I hejird a feller tellin how another was so slow 
Thet he actualy cuddent stop quick at whut ever he would do 
An his nockin made me fussy, an grouchy thru an thru. 
Fer I've foun the feller nockin on sum other fellers work 
Is the one that never frets hissef to do a thing but shirk. 



This worl is shorely hard anuff tu buck agin. 1 vum. 

An the best thet we can do a hull dum lot of troubles come. 

An it keeps a feller nippin right tu business jest tu earn 

A bite tu eat in summer an some fuel fer tu bum. 

When the win blow's cole in winter an the winders frosted o'er 

What's the use of makin troubles an a pilin up some more? 

An the man that keeps a 'nockin most alus is a shirk. 

An the biggest of his troubles is to keep some one from work. 



^ "Valentine 



Give me a pen an ink while I write, 

An a great sheet of paper to write it upon. 

An I'll make me a valentine verse een' tonight 

An finish it up if it takes untill dawn. 

1 '11 tell my feelin's toward all of the worl'. 

An I'll say I feel joyous — jest elegent — fine 

I'll not indite this to any sweet girl, 

But jest wish mankind, all of this valentine. 

To those to whom I may have spoken in heat 
I wish they forget it as soon as they can. 
For I've naught but a wish to shake hands when we i 
r? a wish for all good for my good fellow man. 
Let us pass up our grouches an smile once agetin. 
Let our faces bear only the glad, smiling sign. 
For a grouch on our chest is a heart-breaking pain; 
The cure for which is a "smile" Valentin. 



I'd unite if I could, all tongues, kindreds an creeds 

In one vast brotherhood of well wishing memkind. 

An I'd have if I could, nations vie in good deeds 

Elach one to the other and friendship to bind. 

Let nations send greeting North, South, East and West, 

From U. S. Mississippi to Germany's Rhine, 

An I'm sure if they would, the whole world would be blessed 

In this love giving season of St. Valentine. 



^^t Clan£f 



In this day and age when men are at strife, 
Of one "gainst the other for living an life. 
They don't always side with their kind of a man. 
An scrap it in bunches — a sort of a clan. 
The rich went together for reasons best known 
An could do a lot better than working a lone. 
So they went in together to work as one man. 
An now they are known as a powerful clan. 



They called us free men as they patted our back; 
They took all the coin, cm we just held the sack. 
An they laughed when they saw us patiently rave; 
An they plundered us yearly, an naught could we save 
Until we in our turn took their scheme for our own, 
An reaped in the harvest from seed they had sown. 
For we're joining together each laboring man 
To work as a unit — a working man's clan. 



^ 



But satrange to relate some men who must work 
Will not join with their fellows but persistently shirk 
Their share in the battle to right all their wrongs. 
An pull nots from the fire with fingers for tongs. 
Do you ask? "are they still holding only the sack?" 
No! not on your life; but stand aways back 
Of the man who is fighting since the fighting began; 
An shares in the benefits won by the clan. 



Though we're fighting the battle's of working man-kind, 

(A man is no man who will not lead the blind.) 

So we always will lead them and show them the way 

To live more like free-men than slaves and their pay 

Will still follow after each battle is won 

To the notch a bit higher though naught have they done. 

To forward the good of their own fellow mem. 

Or helped win the battles that's fought by the clan. 



3Jn t|)c Colb (2^lt) Minter ®ime 



When the snow's on the ground, and frost all around. 

In the cold old winter time — 

When the cold in the night freezes everything tight. 

In the cold old winter time ■ — 

Then cold bills come due (and between me and you 

Their amount seems almost a crime) — 

Though you pull in the leather, the ends won't come together 

In the cold old winter time. 

In the cold old winter time, in the cold old winter time. 
When chills are chasing down your back and racing up your spine. 
Then I look the coal man in the eye and he looks straight in mine. 
And tells me 'No more credit till the good old summer time." 



^ 



When the grocery bill runs away up until — 

In the cold old winter time — 

You are almost insane and your head's full of pain. 

In the cold old winter time — 

Then the cold northern breeze blows through holes to your knees. 

And a worn place uncovers your spine. 

Then you wish it was June, with posies in bloom. 

And the good old summer time. 



In the good old summer time, in the good old summer time. 

When the fire don't burn and all you earn pays bills along the line — 

When the merchants all will shake your hand, you'll find it a very good : 

That your credit's good for coal or wood 

In the cold old winter time. 



®lh ^cfiool Bapg 



Men write of the days of the long ago, of the days of youthful glee, 

And remember Ma's voice so soft and low, as Mothers' voices be. 

And forget the times when mothers' nerves were worn to a fragelly thread. 

Elach got what he or she deserves — a cuff 'long side the head. 

I think of the days in the old brick school with Chapin auid Miss Chase. 

The Misses Coe and Parker, too. and Rachel Bernnan's face 

Oft comes to me as she used to be, as she stood close by the door 

When the doctor came to escort her home as he did in days of yore. 



^ 



I remember the days on the prairie hills at school house number two 

Mrs. Del Fosse taught us "mullet heads" most all of the grade plumb thro. 

How I used to crouch in the small buckboard, when the days of school was 

done. 
And Del Fosse drove and they spoke in French — to listen was lots of fun. 
I've fished for the chub, and the sucker, too, for the shiner emd punkin seeds. 
In vacation days the summer through I waded in rushes and reeds; 
I snared the gopher with slip-knot string, and drove in the swimming pool. 
And I think how short were the summer days, and how long the days at school 



Each Frank or Rob had his sweetheart girl, who sat just'across the aisle. 

And when the teacher's back was turned, each got from the other a smile - 

And perhaps a note was passed across, of words just only three, 

But it made the whole world bright and he was happy as boy could be. 

We may think the schools of this our day too much of fudge eind fuss. 

But our boys and girls will all look back and think the same as us 

But the memory of those old school days when they used the rod to rule 

Is a good old time to think about — those days of old time school. 



^f)onp=(grapfi on tfje jFarm 



You can talk about your even's at the theaters an sich; 
You can talk about the pleeisures of big an idle rich. 
But theres nothin that'l help a feller to a hearty laugh 
Like the ceaseless, talk-a-hummin of a graffe-phonegraph. 
In the winter in the evenin's with the gass lamp all aglow; 
With a fire in the heater you fergit about the snow. 
An you start the thing a goin with a record on the shaf 
An you smoke your pipe an 'joy listenin to the phony-graf. 



^ 



You can listen to the quips an jokes Cal Stewart puts across. 

An you sure enjoy the singin of ole frien Renie Ross, 

An Harry Lauder puts across a Scotch one broat an flat 

A tellin of eatin breakfast in bed an all of that, — 

A lot of musty good coon jokes 'bout workin on a farm 

Jest sorter keeps a feller mind from thinkin any harm 

An the musick sorter sifts aroun you like a lot of chaff 

As you'r smokin in the evening, listenin to the phony-graff. 



^lapiit' Crft 



I don't keer much fer movies, er fer dramtic art, 
Except perhaps once in a while the wife an' I'l start 
Out in the evenin' an' we'I go an ketch the service car. 
An' go to see movies of doins near an' far. 
But there's one thing I'd ruther do. that I can do at home 
Instid of galavantin' roun' out in the evening's gloam. 
Is jest to have a Httle game (not play fer cent er drib) 
But take a social neighbor an have a game a crib. 



^ 



The time goes all to sudden an' some time's it seems to me 
That it can't be more's ten o'clock when it raps out two or three 
An' wife she kicks on bein' woke — says I'm "dingy" on the game; 
But I don't care a linger snap, I like it jest the same. 
It's good fer your addition (the countin' as ye play). 
An' addin' quick is handy a dozen times a day. 
An' countin' "double runs" an "nibs" is fun, an' titint no fib 
To say its facinatin' to play a game a crib. 



I've fifteen two, an' fifteen four, an' nibs'l count me five, 

A double run of four's, fifteen as sure as I'm alive. 

An' then I peg out thirty-one fer four, er maby six, 

An' Alus kep a watchin' fer the other feller's tricks. 

Some folks'uU kick on playin' cards, but its cheaper'n play-in' pool. 

An' ye shore don't ned to gamble, er be a plaged fool; 

TTiere's more harm in these "kissin' bees ' where you put on a bib 

An' pull a mess a taffy than to play a game a crib. 



Zift^ooiiMatmtiiMm 



The man that works with a cheery smile 

As he labors through his day 

Is helping himself to the time beguile 

As he steadily works away. 

While he who labors with long-drawn face 

Finds the day's end far away. 

And in the end will find his place 

'Mongst those who are turned away. 

The man who gives you a smile and nod 

As you pass him at his toil 

Is the man who believes that there is a God — 

Hes the man that it's hard to roil. 

But the pennance is great that he hands to you 

For breaking good nature's laws. 

For he's liable to break your bones in two 

Once you get in his angry paws. 

Unlike the grouch that works beside 

With a frown and curled-up lip. 

His friends stick by him whate're betide, 

Through driven by goad and whip. 

And at the time his workday's done. 

When he goes to wife and child. 

If eisked he will answer to every one: 

"I'm glad as I worked 1 smiled." 



^ 



So let's all smile as we do our task — 

'Twill smoothen the world's rough road, 

'Twill lighten the looks of the grouch's mask 

And easen the heavy load. 

'Twill cause men to speak in a kinder tone 

If by chaince they speak to you, 

If you'll smile, yes even when alone — 

Keep smiling the whole day through. 



tEJ^ejfistJtm'^tunt 



I've tried a lot of things to sorter satisfy my mind, 

An to get some entertainment — the best that I could find, 

I've tried 'em of the civil sort, jest only pranks an fun. 

An I foun' that was the safest way fer almost srny one. 

I've tried out swipin' mellons when we had a lot at home. 

Jest fer the fun of swipin' 'em in the evenin's dewey glaom. 

But the thing that's more excitin' — makes yer hair lift up yer cap. 

Is to bump again a fussy guy an have a little scrap. 



^ 



We'll say the car is crowded an ye maby tramp 'is toes, 

"What's de matter wit yu, feller, ain't yer eyes 'long side yer nose?" 

An you answer "Sure! an' Mister, how'd ye like tu take a punch?" 

Then you see the lightnin flashin' after feelin' something crunch. 

Next morn yer eyes are Macker 'n a goats nose poke berry time. 

An a chunk a hide is gone from off yer chin as big's a dime; 

An when ye reach fer somethin' ye have to sorter hunt. 

An it eJl comes from a doin' what they call the fightin' stunt. 



^ 



They's_lots of fellers livin that never had a fight. 

An 1 guess it come's from doin' what they thought was just and right; 

Of corse ye caint do nothin' if yer build up like a lath. 

But they's many's spoke the soft word, that turned away the wrath 

But it doesn't pay in this day to turn the other jaw 

To some hairy breasted roughneck, that's slapped j'e with 'is paw, 

Ye'd better git a billy-goat an take 'is little bunt, 

Thein to stem up "nice an manly" an do the fightin' stunt. 



(garbenin' 



Pa git3 tried workin' 'cause he's bin a-la>-in' roun' — 

Don't feel much like a-<liggin' an' a-spadin' up the groun'. 

After supper evenin's when 'is teeths all cleaned an' picked. 

He talks so short an' grouchy an' v.-e kids almost git licked. 

Ma she ain't so skerr>- of pa's sour looks an' froun. 

She goes out to the coal house an' the rake and spade comes down. 

Pa comes 'long a-grumblin' 'bout how he slaves at work: 

Ma just looks 'roun' grinnin', an' calls my pa a shirk. 



^ 



Pa he rakes the gardoi an' trenches out the rows, 



May she drills the : 



m an sa\-s 



'goodness knows. 



If it wasn't jest for her thej-'d be no garden in," 

But when it 'gins a-comin' up the troubles sure begin. 

The weeds are thicker'n dog hair and the grass is bustin' through; 

An' when pa kicks, ma tells 'im he can eat as much as two. 

So tbej- work away at gardenen an hoe'n up the groun'. 

An' when pa eats in winter, w'y he ain't a crankin' roun'. 



$a at ti)e ^t)oh3 



Well, Ma, I'm back from the Auto show, where the horns was honkin' loud 

(An* I found it a dandy place tu go if ye wanta be in a crowd; . 

An' I went tu the Autotorium where they held the doin's, an' 

How they hear each other fer tothers' shouts is more'n I understan'. 

I went at night by the Motor Mart, an' I seen its lights aglow. 

An' I looked across tu the Auto Block, not more'n a short'stone throw; 

An' I seen the Davidson block lit up with lights strung plumb around' — 

It's the dandiest place to go to. Ma, if ye want tu git showed aroun . 



^ 



An', Ma, I hit the Auto trail with its aidless holler an' yelp ^- 

I mint uv got skinned on the autermobile, but 1 didn't lose my skelp. 

An' ye know there was more than ait>- kinds, an' three tu sell each kind; 

'Twas enough to drive a man insane, an' the glitter to make 'im blind. 

The show winders full uv tires, with ribbons strung forth an' back. 

An' if ye go crossin' the street. \Ia, ye'll git in an auto's track. 

So I went tu the movin' picters, an' bummed 'till the clock struck ten. 

An' I tell ye, Ma, when the yeju- rolls 'round' I'm a-goin' back agen. 



®i)t "f crictjo" 4Wan 



Oh. the Jericho man is a jolly lad — full of fun when with the bunch. 
If he has any troubles, or ever had. you'll not know it without a hunch. 
He carries the honors that come to him. with head held proudly high. 
And the road he travels is never dim. and there's plentj- of signboards by. 
He may meet on his travels smother man. on his way to Jeruselem town. 
He will talk to him. and if he can. he'll get him to turn around. 
Then they'l travel together along the road where so many travelers go. 
And help each other to bear the load, on the way to Jericho. 

Oh, the Jericho man will hold his hand towards you opened wide, 

If you'll only join his little band, and travel by his side 

O'er the stony road by the mountain side, close by where the Jordan flows. 

He'll help in trouble that may betide, eind point where the pine tree grows. 

If he finds a brother beside the way, with head bowed down in grief. 

He'll speak a word of sympathy and try to give relief. 

In short, you'll find him your brother man, wherever you may go. 

He'll help you any way he can. o'er the road to Jericho. 

He'll help you emy way he ran, o'er the road to Jericho. 



^ 



His aim in life, you'll alwaj-s find, is to raise the humsua race. 

And with a chain to you he'll bind himself with smiling face: 

He'll care for his brother's widow, give a home to his orphaned one. 

And give a home to the aged, when their life is nearly done. 

His wife or sister by his side, they travel hamd in hand. 

Be they wearj'. whether rich or p>oor. they'l always understand 

That there's always a place perhaps £in inn) where all — the high or low 

can stop to rest while on the trip from JeruseJem to Jericho. 




^aturtrap ^iqfyt 



I sometimes haf to wonder when I hear my Dad an Ma 
A talkin 'long 'bout Friday nite 'bout what Ma said she saw 
Down town in sum big winder filled chuck up full uv things. 
'Nen pa'd git kinda grouchy 'n say he "didn't care two dings " 
Fer all the plaged winders, er the stuff 'at they had in — 
Said the way some folks blowed money looked like to him a sin 
Mall say tomorrer's pay nite ein guesses she'll come down 
'Bout half pass fore er five a-clock an him «in hur look 'roun. 



^ 



Well, him an hur they look aroun an probly buy some shoes. 
An buy some kinda gingham 'at Ma sais she can use. 
An she alius gits sum stockins — most alius cupple pair. 
An buys a comb or hciirpins fer fixin up 'er hair. 
An Pa 'ul buy some "ole" an just a little meat 
(Cause its all fired expencive. it don't ttist good to eat). 
An 'nen they see the mo\'ies an git home at eight, about. 
Pa pays sum on the grocerj-, an his check is most give out. 



matti) iourgcK #o Pp 



I ptissed along on a crowded street in the thick of a hurrying throng." 

And I noticed the different ways they dressed, and the way they moved £ilong. 

And I tried to read their natures from the faces that I saw. 

And thought how great the number that would evade the law. 

And then a friend of mine came by and passed the glad hello. 

And I told him what I was doing as I walked along so slow. 

Then he told me with a twinkle in the comer of his eye 

To step eiside a moment, and watch myself go by." 



^ 



I did. and then I saw a mam go wandering 'long his way 

Who smiled when ere he met a friend, and passed the time of day. 

He had no point objective, just lived an easy life 

And didn't seem to worry o'er his family or his wife. 

He really wasn't different from some I'd seen before. 

And I thought however angry, no one would think him sore. 

And I fixed his countenance in my mind — I'll tell the reason why. 

1 may accidently meet him and I'll watch as he goes by. 



tEJje poncteab Mm 



You can talk of the man with the high-brow dome, the man with brain by 

the pounds;! 
You can talk, an reason with him sometimes, but did you in your rounds. 
Ever meet the man who has high-brow brains', and supposed to have reason 

withall> 
Who's head was hard as a knot on a log, that wouldn't t«Jk sense at all? 
Sometimes the man with the hard bone-head has an office of high renoun, 
An don't jest care a tinkers cuss fer the people in 'is town; 
Perhaps its jest 'is nature, but I tell you jest the same 
If 'es high er low. er what 'e is. 'es a "bone head" jest the same. 



^' 



What is the use of being a "mule" when you've only two feet to show? 

What is the use of actin a fool, till people tell you to go 

To where ice sells fer four dollars a p>ound, an the market is good at that; 

An why has a man got to be a "mouse" er a measly sneakin "rat?" 

Why can't he be a man among men, amd live to a man's ideals? 

An once on a while concede a point eJ though perhaps he feels 

As though t'was agin 'is nature, an himseld is not to blame; 

It's again 'is nature to do it — he's a bone-head jest the same. 



m\)m i^^a's a=Callin' '»oun 




■^riss Ma pts bo: 



=ie rron: caliia in ■ 



Cictnes an 



sers sTouii rion always is g 
lie iK>w foises' bouses look. 



Hew Mrs. Parkins' lx>ose was aeat 
An' haw Mrs. Fat^ason's was ; 
How she bad od a <£rty dress. ; 



■ boys 



'Bout bow ifae ioBB* UBcs booses wben sbe i 



^ 



Now Mis. PaiUns an Mis- Sttel cooM i 



'f OS kids, at todter od d>e nin. 



.An' sbe mi^ m^be fiod tbe falot^ just scattered on tbe floor. 



.An if Ma amd -QA i 



:'d ooly make i 



U« kids aait better's otber kids (ser worse, I wiD be boon' 



■• e .-^ ;u5; _ts 



otber kids tbey bud wben tbey': 




etilbtooti 



I often dimk ai>d diom of d>a« daTS «b> a eUU. 


We pia^ d>e gaioa <tf diUnxL and .e >»de 


Mod !»». and piq«l at trim Inji ■ the Aadew 


OrebeatdAfafaniinAieft^eU^JiJ 


How 9ick and spa. - .1 do. -e sKcd eat 


New irarids to oaqKr ■• dK «ay« of tei. 


Seard>ins lor mnddr pools •!»« .e onU » 


And spbdi eacfa otW np «itk soeecfc aKl dnt^ 


^' 


And no. 'tis stians« tliat wfatn on^ bailies go 


Oat in dK nHKl «i»e seems die safest pboe. 




With faroR afeoira: bat yet 'tis ever so. 


So if cor tav« fla>e at ddngs oar babies do. 




Tbeir fittle n^ads don't see wbere Aeyn to bfaae. 


Nor do M eidier — honest no«r. do y«i> 



iMotfjer Hobe 



It will stand the test of years of toil, from the day of baby's birth, 

TTie knocks and blows of the world's turmoil — yes, e'en for a blow to earth. 

'Twill steind the test of proverty's strain, for the curse of a drunken son — 

She'll gather him in her arms again, and forgive each and every one. 

She may be in the right if she cursed the day when he came to her and the home. 

But she prays instead to be shown a way to make him love her alone. 

The world may scoff at the fallen boy — may smother him in a pall 

Of dark disgrace, but her love will buoy him up and excuse it all. 



Her little all, e'en a crust of bread, is his to take and devour. 

The pillow beneath her old gray head he may take at the midnight hour. 

He may turn her out of her home, sweet home, toward the poor house on the 

hiU. 
He may drive her out in the evening's gloam, but there's no reprisal bill. 
He can rob, and steal, and plunder at will, be enmeshed in the toils of the law. 
But mother Virill never censure nor will she lay in his way a straw. 
Though the whole world clap and shout for joy — put him back behind prison 

wall. 
She'll tell you he's still to her her boy, and her love will cover it all. 



|@ut ©nee 



We go through life but once and yet. 

We oft times stand and gaze 

Back thro the vistas of the years, and let 

Ourselves go past the parting of the ways 

Pass by the road that leads away 

From recklessness of life, and name and home; 

Passing along the easy road from day to day 

Without a passing thought of the hereafter, sure to come. 



Yet knowing, as we go this joyous way. 

That not one step can ever be retraced. 

Onward we have to go from day to day 

Not thinking of the judgment to be faced. 

When we must hear our whole life's record read 

Our sin's be cursed — our virtues loudly sung. 

Depending always on the life we've led. 

Perhaps some few will hear the master say. "well done.' 



^ 



Then let us all return and find the way 
Though rough and narrow be its stony bed. 
We can endure the pain if we but pray 
For strength to mock temptations that we dread. 
Then resurrect the Bible from its place 
Down underneath the novels on the shelf 
We go Life's road but once, so shun disgrace. 
And help some others while you help yourself. 



Eespecteir 



Respected the man who steinds on the page 
As faithful to duty, honest, and true — 
Respected is he who when in old age 
Is pointed as one who was always true blue. 
Who never shirked duty whatever it be 
And always performed it — respected is he. 



Respected the man who meets problems in life 
With head always high — duty always in sight, 
Who honors old parents, his family, his wife. 
Who is always for honesty, eind for it will fight — 
Whom the Golden Rule governs, each and all of his days, 
Who knows from experience that honesty pays. 



tKo tibe ^Ijirfe 



I ve had hull lots of things in my life time 
That were troubles to me quite a bit: 
But to keep up the string (called lifeline; 
Of grub comin' in. y' can't sit 
Aroun' home a gnimblin' and a growlin' 
Jest 'cause that you've got fer t' work: 
It don't do any good t' keep howlin' — 
Long's you've got t' dig in — don't shirk. 



Y' can't get good, honest money. 
'Cept by laborin' along ever>' day; 
This world ain't aJl m'lasses an" honey. 
An' I tell y', just praying don't pay. 
You'll find that God in the Bible 
Says that if 'y would eat y' must delve: 
If you're honest, j-ou'll find it no quibble, 
For He helps them that's helpin' th'selves. 



These folks that's sittin' and cr\-in' 
That the countr>- is goin' to smash, 
Y' pin 'em right down an" they're i>Tn"; 
It's cause that they ain't got the cash; 
It's cause that they don't want t'labor. 
T'get it this way is their aim — • 
T'skin it from off'n their neighbor — 
For in such folks there ain't any shame. 



Just look out for your small kin relation 
That comes loppin' 'roun for awhile: 
They'll dig in the "lifeline" like nation. 
An' eat up your grub by the pile; 
They'll go hom an' chaw on y"r backbone 
An" say they're most starved, they'll be blessed. 
But next year they're knawing your soupbone 
And otherwise being a pest. 




^be ^eto |9ear 



Another year is gone 

And one more grain of sand falls from life's hour-glass: 

Amother year has flown. 

And further on life's pathway we now pass; 

Our New Years pledges made; 

All for the betterment of self and friends and all mankind; 

Of the future not afr?id, 

All hatred with the old year left behind. 



^ 



A year of life is done. 

And looking back along the pathway we have trod. 

Can each one say to self "well done"? 

Can each one say "I've done my duty to my God"? 

Repent the past: 

If grevious wrongs you may perhaps have done, 

Then at the last 

You'll hear your Heavenly Master's words, "well done." 



> 



Let the menory of past troubles fade, 

And plan to make this next year of your life 

A year in which all animosity aside is laid 

For the banishment of hard heartedness and strife; 

Grieve not o'er past mistakes. 

Nor o'er them shed that awful silent tear. 

But banish from your heart those pains and aches. 

And brighten up your life for this New Year. 



^Dmetoap=^omel|Dto 



An old man sat in a luxurious home 

By the side of a glowing fire. 
And talked to his boy who was prone to roam ; 

'Twas the old man's one desire 
To bring him up in the good old way. 

Like he was brought up before — 
To teach him life's lesson from day to day, 

As he'd lived it in days of yore. 



^ 



Don't curse the world because you can't 

Make all things come your way. 
It don't do any good to rip and rant; 

If you do, you will see the day 
When the world is on top and you're beneath - 

A failure with clouded brow; 
A good example to your son bequeath. 

By helping somebody, somehow. 



If you see a young man on life's highway 

Who is struggling beneath a load 
Too great to bear from day to day. 

Why help him along his road; 
It may better the world unbeknown to you; 

Smoothe a wrinkle from someone's brow; 
You'll feel lots better if this you do — 

Help some one, someway — somehow. 



I.* 



Call of tl)e Hafeeg 



I'm a dreamin an a settin, in an office, an a sweatin. 
An a mopin of my brow that seems a drippin more jin more, 
An as I think of shade an nettin, two to one I am abettin 
That the boys that's on vacation's ketchin pickerl fish galore 
An here I set a drudgin, at my desk and never budgin 
Toward hiken of me off to where there's fish fer ketchin free. 
An there's shade beside the water — I'm a going 'cause Id orter 
I can hear the lake's a ripplin of their soothin call to me. 



Yes. I know there's skeeters moanin, an at night I'll hear em dronin 
An they'll shore raise welts upon me from my head down to my heel. 
An theres chiggers in the grasses an they'll grow their pinky meisses 
'Neath the hide above my shoe tops — gosh I know how bad I'll feel, 
But I'm goin, yes I'm goin — aint' no sorter way of knowin 
Jest where I'll stop fer fishing, er where I'm goin to be. 
I can hear the fish a floppin. I can see the flies a droppin 
In the fish grease in the skillet, an the lake's are callin me. 



^ 



After while when I'm retumin, arm's an face, an neck still bumin. 
From the scorchin rays of sun on water where the fishin's fine 
I'm glad to be home comin — glad to hear the autos hummin — 
Glad to be back in the old town shakin ban's with frien's of mine. 
The sun shine's bumin rigors, the musketer's an the chiggers 
Have no terrors fer this "Walton" when the bass is bightin free. 
An next summer I'm a goin, — if you come you'll fine me throwin 
A spoonhook on the bussom of the lake that called to me. 



MMt for ttie iHab 



I've seen a man come down the street with face all purpled up an' sore. 
With fists all clinched an' knuckles gnurled. an' yellin' that he'd git the gore 
Of those who'd done 'im dirty wrong, an' lied about 'im time er two — 
"If he could meet 'em on the turf he'd beat 'em up, that's what he'd do." 
An' then the band came down the street, em' started playin' raig-time reels — 
Ole Tip-er-rary, Casey Jones, er somethin' like 'em. an' he feels 
A sorter soothin' feelin' come, a stealin' over 'im egad! 
I wondered at the good effect that music had upon the mad. 



Instead of beatin' someone up. he sorter drops into the lilt 

Of time an' tune — no more he longs to stick a knife plum to the hilt. 

But starts a wigglin' of 'is toes, am' moves 'is shoulders up an' down. 

An' smiles upon is feller mem. instead of glarin' with a frown. 

The world is brighter ein' the sun shines on is enemies an' him. 

An' as the band plays down the street, his eyes that flashed are soft em' dim. 

Perchemce. is enemies pass by an' see im smile, an' they are glad 

That music soothes the angry mem. em' cools the man that's mad. 



^ 



If somethin' goes wrong at your work — some stingin' word is passed your way 

Jest keep your temper well in hand, an' whistle up some mandelay: 

Jest pick some tune that's got a "swing." Ole Turkey in the Straw is good. 

An' whistle it out loud an' strong — you'd feel lots better if you would. 

An' don't allow yourself to brood, an' think of how they done you wrong. 

But simply tune your whistle up or sing a little piece of song. 

And when night comes an' work is done. I 'm almost sure that you'll be glad 

That you tuned up your whistle 'stead of stayin' glum an' mad. 




^outf) Ba&ota ^toetie 



Ai bane Sweed en Sout Dakota. 

Leven out haar nex to Wall, 
Ai not laik dose Meenesota 

Wouldn't leeve out dere at all. 
Ai coome haar to get a homstade, 

Make mai home so long ai can, 
Bust da prairie, plant da sod com. 

Maak a leevin like a man. 



Las year, back in Meeneoplis, 

Man he holler: "Hay dere Sweed, 
Vere you goin?" "Sout Dakota>" 

"Vy, Ai tell you vat you need, 
To be put en an eisylum, 

Vere you cant get out again." 
Vy, out dar in das Dakota, 

Das man say et never rain. 



^ 



Veil, Ai come an gat mai homestade, 

Crass all waving fine and green. 
Den Ai tank das man bane liar, 

Dis da finest Ai bane seen. 
All dis mont et bane a rainin. 

Wagon floatin, horses swim, 
Ef Ai had das foel man out haar, 

Ai would surely duck heem een. 



^ Mtism 



Once on a time an old man made 
His will, and in the will he prayed 

That when he died he might be 
Laid to rest beneath a tree 

That grew upon the homestead farm 
To sleep in peace away from harm. 

He died and he was laid to rest 
Where in his will was his request. 

A monument placed at his head 

To mark the spot where lay the dead. 

Twas well preserved until the lands 
Were sold and passed to other hands. 



Years rolled around auid then one day 
The stone's foundation felt decay — 

Toppled and fell down in the night, 

Years rolled around — it sank from sight. 

After an age a railroad came 

And built a town upon the claim. 

An Irishman digging a cellar one day 
Uncovered the stone and scraped away 

The mould that clung to its polished face 
And with a nail, gome words he traced. 

Tried to understand just what was said 
In this strange message from the dead. 

"Remember mein as you jmiss by. 
As you are now so once was I. 

As I am now you're sure to be. 
Prepare yourself to follow me. 

The Celt leaned back and scratched his head, 
And then he answered what he'd read: 
"To follow you, I'll not consent. 
Until I know just where you went." 



©Ije W,no\u-it-aH Mm 



Did you ever meet, while passing along 

On the crowded street, in the hurrying throng. 

A man with 'is hat cocked over 'is ear 

Acting like he owned this whole hemisphere> 

He has a swagger that's all 'is own 

An' you'd think that 'is neck was a solid bone. 

He's not built according to God's own plan — 

When you meet him you'll know he's the "know-it-all" man. 



^ 



Whatever your trade — he's worked at it. too. 
He's seen the whole world, outside, an' through. 
An' with him your opinion ain't worth a rap — 
He's the high brow brain of the whole world map. 
If you want 'is advice all that you've got 
To do is drop one cent into the slot 
An' he'll beller more noise than a hammer an' pan 
By his actions you know he's the "know-it-all" man. 



He's the biggest "gazaboo" that hails from 'is town; 
Contradict 'im 'is brow puckers up in a frown. 
For he's shure the "guy" that put "W" in wise. 
An' 'is head is swelled up to most any old size. 
An' so if you meet him you'll sure know the gink: 
He puts high school professors an' all on the blink. 
Why someone don't shoot 'im I can't understand,' 
For he's jist a plain nuisance — this "know-it-all" man. 



Mtoniiitmtv 



"Inconsistency, thou Jewell." some wise feller made remark, 
An' its sure a truthful sayin' — meanin' ain't plumb in the dark, 
An' it shows amost all over in most every walk of life. 
An' the most is when some feller buys an auto fer 'is wife; 
He goes 'long to teach 'er all the kinks of runnin' it, an' say! 
If some one don't git run over, why they hussel out the way, 
'Cause she wants to show the neighbors that she knows how to c 
"Pace's" forty miles an hour jest to show 'at she's alive. 



^ 



Railroad man drives through the country on two shinin' lines of steel. 
People know jest where 'is rout is — where he's tumin' every wheel. 
He must study 'bout 'is business, know its every crook and turn; 
He must know 'is rules an' time card, also how much coal to bum, 
Fore he's 'lowed to touch a throttle er to make a wheel go 'roun'. 
While some woman in an auto can go smashin' on the groun'. 
Comes a crisis while she's drivin' why, she'll up an' lose 'er head, 
An' she never seems to find it 'till someone is killed plum dead. 



Little kids are 'lowed to run "em, windin' 'long the crowded street — 
Responsible? Don't you believe it! Dad may owe fer what they eat, 
Payin' fer the 'sheen on 'stallments, if your wrecked in life er limb. 
Jest collect it from the angels, you can't get a thing from him. 
Make each driver get a license, an' a number same's the car. 
Then our lease of life fn value will rate somewhere close to par; 
Maby we can cross the street an' have a safer sort of feel 
Than to face a hog-wild auto with a woman at the wheel. 



%tfit Wit Jforget 



Lest we forget 

Those oft repeated promises to friends, of years gone by; 



Lets ] 



let. 



That hot remorseful tear bedom our eye 

But ever keep 

Those promises, lest faith in us shall fail, 

And let our thoughts be honest, broad and deep. 

And actions such that no one can assail. 



^ 



Lest we forget 

Our duty £13 a citizen and man 

Don't ever let 

A chance go by to help another when we can 

But as we pass through life 

And see a friend cast down upon his way 

Help him to free himself from strife 

And when he asks your help 

Don't say him nay. 



^ 



Lest we forget 

Our duty to our God and child and wife, 

T'is best to set 

A rule to govern us through all our after life. 

Let's set our standard high. 

And ere' life's sun for many may have set 

Let's make our promise good ere death draws nigh 

And we forget. 



iWp iWotfjer'jf ^rapew 



As I sit and think of years gone by 
Of the old home long since gone, 
There comes to my mind a memory 
Of many a mother's song: 
"Nearer My God to Thee," she sang. 
Or, "A Land That is Fairer Than Day;' 
In my ears thro' all these years have ra 
Her words, ais she taught me to say: 



"Our Father who art in Heaven," or "Now 

I lay me down to sleep:" 

She'd pray, "Oh God, wilt thou teach us ho 

Strict vigil o'er self to keep? 

Give us strength to live in a virtuous way. 

So we'll all meet up above; 

Dear Lord, we live from day to day 

In Thee and Thy wondrous love." 



Dear mother I've not forgotten 

Your self-denying love. 

But a memory of these prayers have stood 

'Twixt me and the lowest groove. 

And I often seem to catch a gleam 

Of a long forgotten day. 

When I used to 'wake from a troubled dream 

And hear your dear self pray. 



"Oh, God, forgive us this day each sin. 

And teach us how to be 

Fit and clean, that we may win 

A place in Heaven with Thee: 

Keep us and guide us by thine own hand. 

And when we are done here, then. 

Lord, take us up to thine own bright land; 

We ask it, Lord, Amen. " 



$Dlisit) t\)t Mavktit ^ibt 



If you're down in the mouth and a feeling glum. 

And you don't know what to do; 

If you just sit around looking blue and glum 

Like that was all you could do — 

You will surely stick on some big sand bar. 

Thrown up by life's wild tide. 

If life looks dark and you can't see far. 

Why, polish the dcirkest side. 



^ 



If in life's short span you have made some mistake, 
And the glitter is gone from the dross. 
Don't go to the park and jump in the lake, 
(Though you think' t wouldn't be much loss;) 
Pull yourself together and trj- again. 
'Through your patience be sorely tried. 
Don't take to drink to drown your pain. 
Just poUsh the darkest side. 



^ 



There's many a man who's start was bright, 

Who has fallen beside the way; 

Who got discouraged and gave up the fight 

And came up missing one day. 

Old parents and friends were left behind, 

To mourn for his loss of pride. 

So open your eyes and clear your mind. 

By brightening life's dark side. 



^a==I.atior Bap 



My Pa went out to Labor day. dressed in blue shirt an' crusher hat, 

An' marched with all them union men to show the people where they're at. 
An' when the carpenters come by. all four abreast, an' dandy line, 

I heard a lot of people say. "Just look a'there! Say. ain't they fine? " 
An' Pa was walkin' up in frunt (.looked kind a like he's feeling proudj 

Because the fellers looked so swell, an' made the people clap out loud; 
But when we got out to the park, the fellers jist tore loose, an' say! 

They run. an' jumped, an pitched horseshoes — Pa's walk-in' kinda lame 
today. 



^ 



Pa run roun' bases likety split, to see how fast "at he could go. 

An' said he felt jist like a kid, 'bout ten er twelve years old er so. 
An' when he got most clear around', he looked like he was almost dead — 

His foot shpped on some grass an' he jist fell an' slid right on 'is head. 
He's cripplin' roun' all day today, £in' said "Ole Fool " a hundred times 

An groans when he goes roun' the house, an says " is head rings like some 
chimes." 
An' Ma jist laughs — says "Old Fool." too, to try to be a kid don't pay: 

But Pa'U do it all again when he goes out next Labor day. 



Etie <@rabe of tlje $a£it 



Tonight I stand by the grave of my past 

Where I buried it long ago, 

And I think to myself of the great contrast 

Twixt now and then, and I know 

That if time could be turned back over those years, 

At the waving of my hand, 

I'd do away with the sighs and tears 

O'er things I now understand. 



Memories of childhood's happy days, 

In that buried long ago. 

When I lived my life in various ways 

In joy and grief and woe. 

But the bright spots shine like a calcium light 

On life's curtain clean and fair. 

And I wish those years would come back tonight, 

And joy be everywhere. 



But let us not dream of the buried past. 

Nor look on its grassy grave. 

But think of the future to come at last. 

We all have a soul to save. 

Let's live the rest of our lives on earth 

And when our end comes at last. 

We die in peace, knowing we are worth 

A grave by our buried past. 



tEDfl^nksistbms ^tiougijt^s 



What have we to be themkful for 

You and I my friends? 
That you are still upon the earth. 

And in business gained your ends, 
That you've received and abundance of 

The blessings showered by God, 
That you can still breath His pure air 
And are not beneath the sod. 



^ 



Think for a moment of all you have 

To thank God's mercy for. 
For wife, for husband, friends and life. 

And other things galore. 
You have plenty to eat. to drink juid wear. 

Though it comes by sweet of the brow 
Thank God for health so you can work 

On this day. thank Him now. 



You may think it were better to have life's load 

Lifted eind taken away. 
That its hard to keep pulling along the road 

That grows rougher and rougher each day. 
But recompence comes bye and by.e 

When you lay this burden down. 
Be thankful you live, don't moan and cry 

You won't work when your neath the ground 



trijc Bap ^f ter 



I bin a waiten quite a while fer Crissmus day to come. 
An' this last month I jest bin good an' helped ma out qu 
: an' caiT>-in' cx>al an' wood, 
good eis any feller could. 



An 



I bin doin' up my chores 

cany'in' out the ai 

1 jest kinder dropped a hint 'bout what I'd kinder like 



To have ole Santa bring to me. an' 
Down town to do a errand fer ma ; 



I'd take a hike 
jrry back 



; out 'ith Santa when he dug in 'is pack. 



Pa said the war in Germ'ny where Santy made 'is toys. 

Has killed a lot of Santj-'s men, an" some'v us girls and boys 

Ud shore be disapinted when we didn't git a sled. 

An' said at Santj'd skeemed an worried, an almos lost 'is head, 

A tr>-in' fer to figger out some way to git um through. 

But guessed he'd haff to give it up — it made 'im offul blue. 

I tell ye 'at it made me blue as a feller jest could be. 

'Cause I been good almost a month fer nothin', don't you see> 



^ 



1 et a lot a nuts 'n things, some chicken, an' mince pie. 

Some candy, an some apples — Pa s«iis he wonders why 

I aint jest almost plum down sick — sais he can't sleep a wink 

Account of havin' dreams hisself of fallin' off the brink 

Of some high place where he's at work, an' jest afore he lit. 

He kicked an' hollered awful, cind scared ma in a fit. 

Pa sais he's glad its over, an' sais at it don't pay 

To fill yer stummick 'ith plum duff em' stuff on Crismus day. 



tECtDixt %ik anb JBeatf) 



Twixt life and death, to stand and gaze 

Into the far away beyond: 

To think in a second of all your days. 

As o"er them your mind has conned: 

Your clothes are fast to a whirling shaft. 

You can feel death in the air; 

You shout: "Stop the motor. I'm caught on the shaft! 

In a voice fiUed with despair. 



'^ 



Your clothes are cut. you're taken down 

Once more to breath the air 

Of this good old world — though you might have frowned 

And said that you didn't care. 

When death comes grimly up to you 

And says without a smile: 

"Come along young man. I think you'll do; " 

Then you want to tarry awhile. 



You say: "Oh God. give me one more chance 

To quit this life of sin; 

I'll labor for you and your cause advance 

In this world that I'm Irving in" 

The plea is heard — the chance is given; 

^'ou begin a brand new Life; 

The bond of sin on yourself you've riven 

.•\nd return to child and viile. 



One night there sat in a little room — 

Elach from a different place — 
Three man in manhood's healthy bloom. 

And each with a smiling face 
Ejcpressed a preference for the maid 

Of his own country and clime: 
One each from 1 taly and an Elnglish glade. 

One from Germany on the Rhine. 



"Gife me dot Gretchen mit dem pig plue eyes, 

Und dot hair glike dot stringy gold, 
Unt dot modest look as avay she shies — 

Let her be about twendy years old; 
Mit her vooden schoes upon her feet, 

Down der spring path she skips so gay; 

Gife me dot Deutcher gal so sveet, 
Avay mit der odders, avay!" 



: 



"You-a giv-a to me," the dago said, 

"My-a little Florine sweet-a; 

I no lik-a 'Merican girl." he said. 

She wink-a me on-a da street-a; 
I lik-a Italia with long black hair 

An' a cheek lik-a apple side: 
I go-a to sec my-a Rorine fair, 

An'a mak-a Rorine my-a bride." 



"Aw, say, yew duffers." the Elnglishman sai 

"You fellas are tew bloody choice; 
Hi'U take any girl — e'en a red. red ead — 



If so be she's in for a jolly good time. 
Whether dago, Dutch or Swede, 
Hi'll take and wed 'er and 'round 'er twine 
The finest of everything she may need." 



$erf)aps; 



Perhaps, if we would look around and think 

Of others but ourselves, we'd understand. 

Perhaps, from some unpleasant duties we'd not shrink; 

Perhaps they've fallen down and need our hand. 

Perhaps if we would help them to arise 

From out of their despondency and shame, 

Perhaps t'would be to us a glad surprise 

To see them go again, though maybe lame. 



Perhaps a man has fallen down through drink. 
Perhaps he's spent in crime his better days. 
Perhaps if you would speak he's stop to think; 
And take up life anew and change his ways. 
Perhaps some sister fell beside the way 
And getting naught but kicks, forgot her God. 
Perhaps if we'd kneel down by her and pray 
She'd rise again and in life's better path she'd trod. 



Perhaps if we ourselves would sometimes just compare 

Our actions with what others seem to be. 

Perhaps we'd find (although we're always unawaret 

That we are like some others we can see. 

Then let us all keep well within our minds. 

That those of us who live in a house of glass. 

Must cast no stones, but 



stope 



And credit up their virtues as we pass. 



all errors we may find 



Wiiftn iWa ig #one ^toap 



My Ma's gone home to visit with her Ma a week er so. 
An Pa he's jest a moochin 'roun — says Hfe aint all a glow 
Of sunshine 'roun about the house when Ma is gone away — - 
An kids run wild as timber hogs while he works through the day. 
Sis tries to make us mind 'er, an we do most as we like 
'Cept when she hollers "dirmer " 'n then we take a hike. 
We're mighty good when Pa's aroun — don't quarrel as we play 
But gee ye'd orter see us when Ma is gone away. 



One starts to build a ingun hut with poles and gunny sacks 
An goes an gets Ma's shears an uses all 'er carpet tacks. 
An 'bout the time its finished why one 'ul run aroun 
An grab a pole an 'reck it — the hull thing on the ground. 
Pa says 'at "he cant un'erstan how kids can be so mean " 
An says "he thinks 'at his uns the worst he ever seen." 
But we're jest samk-to-monus when he is home ail day 
An Sis cant do a thing with us when Ma is gone away. 



^ 



Pa goes and gits a bunch of nails to have aroun the place 

An I dont think to use em up is any big disgrace. 

But when he went to fix the well he jawed an walked aroun 

An foun 'nuff nails to fix ir drove right down in the ground. 

He couldn't find is hammer an used the ax to drive 

An "wished the time 'ud soon roll roun when Motther ud arive 

Its 'hole lots better here at home when all us kids can play 

With things we take out of the house when Ma is gone away. 



Mp $u() 



I've got a pup with yeller hair, at come to me one day down town, 
An went with me most ever where, an follered me jest all aroun 
An when I started off fer home, he follered like he did afore 



T'wnt make no difference where 



e. he'l never leave me any more. 



When I'm a eatin, half is his. an say! he knows it too you bet 
An when its reiinin like gee whiz, he shares my place out of the wet. 
Pa says "he's jest a measley cur. an said I'll have to give 'im up," 
But he sticks to me like a bur, and 1 jest love 'im — he's my pup. 



Sometimes we're settin in the shade. I'm tryin to build a pushmobele, 

An when 1 bust my ole knife blade, an cry he knows how bad I feel. 

An shoves 'is nose into my han. an mayby licks it time er two. 

He shure does make me unerstan. that he's my fren plum through an through. 

An if I keep a grievin 'bout, the bustin of my only knife. 

The pup jest scampers all about, me fitten fer to bust 'is life 

An then he'l wag is short stub tail, that sais so plain "less mix er up." 

Then I fergit to cry and wail, an roll an tumble with my pup. 



^ 



I jest cant see why dad's wont feed, their own boys pups ein kick about 

The cost of livin — all we need, is 'nuff re r one weel stretch it out 

An diwy up 'long with the dog. an make it be enough fer two. 

A feller neednt be a hog. an eat the hull thing up. would you? 

My pup's most all I've got to love. I'll; ck to him through all my life. 

Sometimes I think he come from 'bove to help me through my boyhood life. 

An when I'm ole an 'bout to die, an al my play thing's I give up 

Pa sais if'm good I'll go on high — ' fi' do I'll take along my pup. 



^Duti) ISafeota 



In the State of South Dakota where, all over vale and hill 
Spring breezes softly blowing, make my soul with rapture thrill. 
Where the sun is always shining o'er the valley and the plain 
In six months I'll be returning for I'm going back again. 



Where the meadow lark is singing his glad song up in the sky 
There's a sympathetic feeling back and forth twixt him Jind I 
For my heart is full of gladness and I'll tell you all the same 
I will not enjoy life until I land upon my cletim. 



On the south west fourth of 25, town 2, in range 15 
There's the finest strip of prairie land that ever you have seen. 
A liike within its borders — wild duck swimming to amd fro 
In the land of South Dakota is my home and I must go. 



^ 



In the leind of South Dakota, where the whooping grouse you hear. 
And the mirage in the morning shows the country bright and clear 
Where the cactus blooms in summer with its red and yellow hues 
In the land of South Dakota is the home that I will choose. 



^ticlktn' 0n ^tltnti 



Look heah Son. ahl tell yo sumpin, 

An don't you forgit er word 
Yo hab got ter keep er humpin 

For the pahson sais he's heard 
Dat de worl am moving fastah 

An mah Son, ah fink yo'l fine 
Yo'l be like er mustard pleistah 

Alius stickin on ahind. 



^ 



Don't yo fink dat yo had orter 

Be lots smahter othar folks 
Hits lak fallin inter wartah. 

When yo lights taint like no jokes. 
When yo fink yo got er sinch on 

All de worl, 1 fink yo'l fine 
Dat de worl ul gin ter pinch on 

Yo an yo'l stick on ahin. 



^ 



Now mah Son. dis aint no vapah 

Comin from de ole man's mouf. 
Ye can read in emy pappah 

Comin from de norf er souf. 
Son, yo mus be up an doin 

Elf you don't, Ah know yo'l fine 
Dat fer yo ders trouble bruin 

An yo'l alius be ahine. 





I've heard a lot of pratin 'bout "the moonlight on the water" 

I've heard a lot of stuff 'bout summer days, 

But if a feller rises in the mornin when he'd oughter; 

If he'd got a love for nature why it pays. 

In the momin when its moonlight jest afore the break of dawn. 

When the red streaks look like flashes from a gun 

A radian like wheel spokes all across the horrizon 

When the moon gives up 'is job to Mr. Sun. 



Then the dew drops in the meadow — an upon the leaves of com, 

Start glistenin like a million points of glass. 

An the jay bird starts a callin to is mate as shore's your bom 

There's a billion diamonds sparklin in the grass. 

You'feel an elevatin sence — a thrillin through and through — 

Like you thought the 'hole dum worl was made fer fun 

An you revel in the glory of the red across the blue 

When the moon gives up 'is job to Mr. Sun. 



Some men declare they ain't no God. a heaven er a hell 

An when a man is dead 'es only gone. 

But I'd like to have them tell me who made this worl so well 

Who changes of the darkness into dawn. 

They never hiked to some high hill afore the roosters crowed 

Like 1 a many, mamy times have done. 

Elr they'd git back home to breakfast knowing things they never knowed 

If they's seen the moon give up 'is job to Mr. Sun. 



tE^i}t $ate Cfjat Hilte 



Out all night in the white way's light, where the glasses glisten and shine. 

Where waiters go both to and fro to wait on the well filled line 

Of tables round where patrons pound with the bottoms of steins that's dr>-. 

And then next day they work away sore headed, and wonder why. 

If men would think of the cost in health and audit up all the bills. 

They'd leave the trail of those who fail by traveling the pace that kills. 



TTie pace that kills leads by the stills, and back by the alley's walls. 
And the man whose way leads there, some day will suffer an awful fall. 
Perhaps some acquaintance for old times sake will pass him a couple of bills, 
As he hatstens along with the great, great throng that travels the pace that kills. 



^ 



Women dressed gay are along the way that the speeder travels along. 

And the sjjeedway rings with the songs they sing — they're a jolly, dancing 

throng. 
But old man Time comes down the line and passes them on the wing. 
And half way down comes the whitening crown ere youth has its rightful fling. 
If they'd stop to figure what all of it costs, in pain, in suffering and ills. 
To travel the way (though ever so gay) at the pace that always kills. 




As I sit by the fire this chilly night. 

And read my book by the lamp's bright light, 

My memory leads far away and back 

O'er my life's own peaceful track. 

Over my mind's eye comes a gleam. 

Of faces and forms that ever i 

To beckon me to turn around 

And trod again the same old ground; 

And I think as my babe sits on my knee, 

Of the good old times that used to be. 



think of friends of the days of yore — 
Some have gone far on before; 
The rest are here on this earth's broad face; 
Some have honor, some disgrace. 
Some are rich with land galore, 
(Never satisfied — wanting more,) 
Some have embraced the life divine. 
Proudly upholding the Christian sign; 
But I think of them now as they were with me. 
In that good old time that used to be. 



Eace ^uicibe 



Me and Mandy was a talkin' a few minits t' other night 
We was just a speculatin' an' a tryin' to get some light 
On a subject that made Mandy giggle till she hurt her side; 
It's that Roosevelt hue and holler that he calls "race suicide. 



^ 



Now our Teddy has a notion that the big bunch he has got. 
Is the best and biggest ever played around a back yard lot; 
But me and Mandy figgered out, an' we'll enumerate a few, 
An' jest show that young president what folks out here C£m do. 



Now there's Joneses 'round the comer long side of the meetin' 
They're as peart a lot of kids as ere went scratchin' fer a Ious< 
There's Will, an' John, an' Betsy, Bediah, Said and Hen, 
An' Sis, an' Kate, an' Cretchy, an' Letty, Sam an' Ben. 



The Collinses have seven , and the Williamses have five. 
An' the Schoberts got eleven more, as sure as you're alive; 
Two-quart-bottlesons have six — an' they ain't never washed and cleaned - 
They've got five a runnin' 'round, an' the baby it ain't weaned. 



There's McFaddens, an' McNultys ,an' O'Briens an' O'Toole, 
They have each got half a dozen — countin' in the goat an' mule; 
An' there's my John Jacob goin' soon to git himself a bride; 
Me an' Mandy thinks ain't a going to be "race suicide." 



Compatigon 



As I sit tonight and\hink and dream 
Of tKe years in memory's back track — 
Of the ways they lived those times that 
To be never recurring back 
How we got together in a social way; 
Talked our joys and troubles o"er — 
But. alas! we rush in this hurry up day 
For money to make and store. 



^ 



Just a nod for a friend as we pass him by 

On the car or the crowded street: 

Not a glance from the friend, as. with downcast eye 

He passes with flj-ing feet. 

No time to ask, "How's the wife eind child?" 

We must struggle with might 2md main, 

ELaich "eating the other" to put it mild — 

Work: work is the only refrain. 



Our own blood brothers we cjmnot trust. 
Nor sisters, though it be their shame: 
It's bred in the bone; this shamful lust — 
So, really, who's to blame? 
Let's look around with a searching eye. 
And find out what's gone wrong; 
Let's make life bright in the bye and bye 
As the years go passing along. 



CijriSt'si Bap 



Long, long before the start of time — before the world began. 
Before the earth was made and God had placed upon it man 
Elach little thing that's here on earth, is witness of the way 
God planned it all. and planned it well — a universe some day. 
He knew that man weis prone to err. and that some future time. 
He'd fall in wickedness, cind woe, iniquity, and crime. 
And when that time rolled 'round he sent his Christ here on the earth 
To clesinse the world of sin and die to give us Christian birth. 



^ 



Christmas, the birthday of this Christ that came to save weak 

Is here, and we should follow in his footsteps if we can 

By helping each other by kind words of cheer. 

And emulate his way while he was here. 

Give to the needy, and peiss none this day 

Whom you can help along life's weary way. 

For he has said, "What's given in my name, or done. 

Shall some day be returned a thousand fold for one." 



Peace upon earth and good will to all men, this sweet refrain 
Is sung this day sdl o'er the earth again, again. 
Yet, weary, heart sick, mortals watching embers cold and dead 
Can see no peace, and love, just sickness, hunger, dread. 
How can we have the cheer, and sing that sweet refrain 
When heart strings break asunder 'neath the streiin 
Of want, and God will mock us when we pray 
For blessings on our feast this Christmas day. 




jHoSquito ^imt 



Ai >-ou wander from >-our doorway in the cooling evening air. 

Thiakiog tbat >-ou°I] take a little stroU. 
As )-ou have no point objective, you start out most an>-where 

And seek the top of some nice little knolL 
Then a soft seductive singing comes w-afted on the breeze. 

Groi^ close to you. and then as sure as fate. 
Though you strike about promiscous till you're out of breath and wheeze 

^■hen >-Oii strike at that mosquito you strike late. 



^'ou may curse him till the air is blue and has a sulphur smell. 

^'ou can fight until you're tired and in pain 
You had better let him have his fill — you'll find it just as well. 

If you drive him off. he'll just return again. 
He is here now for the se<ison and his Irving he must get 

If to get it he must drive us all insane. 
But whatever the result to us. he'll get it you can bet. 

For mosquito time has sure rolled 'round again. 



I 



